


Weighed and Measured

by Kittendiamore



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Aimeric (Captive Prince) Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, M/M, Magic, Mentions of past child abuse, Nicaise (Captive Prince) Lives, Post-Canon, canon typical warnings apply, mentions of csa, the regent dies, the time travel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-03-25 12:32:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13834353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittendiamore/pseuds/Kittendiamore
Summary: “Don’t read it,” Damen says, urgently, and he tries to pull Laurent back.In Akielon and, oddly, Veretian, the wall of the cave says: What does your heart desire?Laurent already has everything that his heart desires. Everything except- Auguste.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is being posted in parts on tumblr at [@Nikanndros](https://nikanndros.tumblr.com/) as I write it. I'll update here when each act is entirely finished. Title from Which Witch by Florence and the Machine.

Summer storms in the new capital aren’t uncommon, but the three day deluge is unlike anything Laurent has ever experienced. On the first day everyone is outside, even him and Damen, trying to limit the damage. They’re meant to be preparing the official announcement for the joining of their Kingdoms. Laurent tries not to take the weather as an omen. The announcement will come as a shock to none after the wedding last year.

“If only you were wearing a chiton,” Damen says, mournfully looking at Laurent’s soaked through jacket. Damen  _ is _ wearing a chiton and so Laurent can see exactly what Damen means. 

Laurent laughs and presses a quick kiss to his mouth, right there in the middle of the rain. “Perhaps,” he says, four years into their relationship and still very much in love, “we should take these off before we catch our deaths.” 

Maybe it’s not an omen. Or not a bad one at least. The rain could be there to wash away the past and prepare them for their brand new future. 

-

 

The rain is too heavy to risk calling in councillors and kyros for meetings, so they experience three days of little responsibilities. A lot of that time is spent entirely in bed; they haven’t had a break like this since their first visit to the Summer Palace. 

(“Surely there’s something productive we could be doing,” Laurent says.

“There is.” Damen says, placing a line of kisses down Laurent’s hip bone, “Cartography.”

“This is one map that you should have fully memorised by now.”

Damen grins and Laurent smiles back. It’s far too late to pretend that that grin doesn’t make his heart beat painfully in his chest. “I don’t know,” he says, “Things change. I might have to dedicate myself to this forever.”

_ You already have _ , Laurent thinks of their wedding vows. He can’t say it aloud though because Damen is dipping his head lower and speech is suddenly unimportant.)

At the end of the rain, it feels like a privilege to be able to step out into the sun.

“Back to work, I suppose,” Damen says. He suits the sun. Laurent doesn’t, no matter how much his husband claims to adore sunburnt cheeks and a nose dotted with freckles.

“No,” Laurent says, when he means to say the opposite. “Let’s go riding.” They can see the extent of the storm’s damage. 

Damen smiles.

-

 

He stops smiling when they come upon a cave. 

“This shouldn’t be here,” Laurent says. “The storm couldn’t uncover something like this, could it?”

“I don’t think so,” Damen says, uneasy.

“We can’t be lost,” Laurent says, dismounting. 

“We should turn back,” Damen replies, but he’s also securing his horse. 

Laurent’s already stepping into the cave when Damen catches up to him. Damen takes his hand. 

The cave should be dark and washed out from the storm, but it is bone dry and there’s something luminescent in the walls that make it glow a dull blue. It illuminates a path and Laurent follows it as if tethered - he’s distantly aware that he shouldn’t be wandering into a strange cave that is non-existent by all maps, but it is pulling him along.

“We should go back,” Damen insists, but their hands are still clasped. Laurent has the notion that Damen isn’t being beckoned forward as Laurent is: he’s just following out of love for his husband’s whims.

“Have you been here before?” Laurent asks.

“No,” Damen says, “but there have been times when I wanted-- we shouldn’t be here, Laurent.”

Eventually, they step out of another dim hallway and into a large cavernous area. Laurent has no idea how deep they have gone and suddenly this all seems like -- not a bad idea, but one to be wary of.

The cavern is large enough that Laurent cannot see the entirety of the walls, and the only lit up part is on the wall adjacent to them. A myriad of blooming, glowing purple flowers are clinging onto vines around the wall. And in between the vines - in a kind of paint that Laurent has never before seen - is words.

“Don’t read it,” Damen says, urgently, and he tries to pull Laurent back.

In Akielon and, oddly, Veretian (when they are still within Akielon borders) it says:  _ What does your heart desire? _

Laurent already has everything that his heart desires. Everything except- “What is this?” Laurent asks. 

“We should go.” This time, Laurent lets Damen pull him out of the cavern, and they set a brisk pace as they depart through the halls.

“You have suspicions,” Laurent tells him, looking at his husband’s tense shoulders.

“Yes,” Damen says. “It’s meant to be just a myth. A friend of Nikandros said he’d been to it, when we were younger and we all teased him for it.”

“What is the myth?” The light at the entrance is now in view, too bright to see anything beyond it but whiteness.

Damen’s hand tightens in his and he starts slowing down, enough for Laurent to take the lead. He can feel Damen’s reluctance. “It is,” Damen says, “about a travelling cave that was blessed by the old Gods.”

Then they are stepping out into the light - it’s so bright that Laurent has to close his eyes - and the first thing he notices is that Damen has stopped speaking. 


	2. Act I: Vere

It’s less like coming awake and more like blinking. One moment he is stepping out of the cave, hand in hand with Damen, then he closes his eyes and opens them. He is in his bedroom in Arles and Damen is nowhere. Despite a lifetime of training himself into non-reactions, Laurent startles.

It is not his rooms, but it is. He is not in the King’s suite; he’s in the same rooms he grew up in - only, decorated differently. The bedclothes are gaudily embroidered, and his dressing table is covered in glimmering jewellery. He steps towards the table and then catches sight of himself in the looking glass.

Laurent is a reasonable man. Up until this moment, he’d been considering that he might have sustained a head injury, memory issues, something logical to explain this. But now he stares at his reflection and thinks of Damen’s wary look in the cave. The way his husband had clutched his hand a little tighter. The only explanation for this is magical.

His hair hasn’t been this long - down to his chest - since he was fourteen and he sheared it all off in mourning. His jacket is crimson and tightly laced, classically Veretian and a ruby hangs delicately from each of his ears. The last time he wore an earring had been at that inn with Damen. 

_ What does your heart desire? _ The cave had asked. Laurent doesn’t dare hope. Still, his heart pounds as he exits the rooms and walks directly to the King’s chambers. His parents had slept here, he thinks. Jord is guarding the door and he greets Laurent with a confused look. 

“Do you have business with the King?” he asks, with none of the respect that Laurent has grown used to. He doesn’t care.

“Yes,” Laurent says. “Yes, let me in.”

Jord frowns, but knocks on the door dutifully. A familiar voice calls out from the inside of the room. The door is opened and there- There is Auguste. Resplendent in all his blue and gold beauty.

“Prince Laurent,” Jord says, “Your Majesty.”

His hair is the exact colour of honey that Laurent remembers. He looks older - he must be at least thirty. Thirty! He stands in front of Laurent like the miracle he’s always wished for.

“Auguste,” Laurent says, voice choked. 

Auguste immediately stands, looking alarmed. “What’s wrong?” he says, as Laurent throws himself into his brother’s arms. He hesitates to return the hug. “Laurent? What has happened?”

His body is solid and warm, it is no apparition or dream. Auguste lives and breathes and Laurent has to actively force himself not to weep. 

“Laurent!” Auguste repeats, urgently, and he pulls away from the embrace too soon to clutch at Laurent’s upper arms. “Answer me.”

“Nothing,” Laurent says. Talking about magic caves and wishes come true won’t do any good here. “Nothing is wrong, I just wanted to see you.”

Auguste frowns. “Are you coming to the council meeting today, then?”

It had been Laurent’s childhood dream to be one of Auguste’s advisors. There had been no idea more thrilling than helping his brother’s rule from the sidelines. “Yes,” Laurent says, “Of course.” He is smiling.

Oddly, this makes Auguste look wary, but he doesn’t argue. “We might as well go now, then,” he says, and then he leads the way. Laurent has never been happier to follow someone in his life.

-

 

If this really is some kind of ancient magic, then this means that he’s in a universe where the Battle of Marlas either didn’t happen or ended differently. A truce perhaps. Obviously, the Damen of this world has no reason to be here in Vere, but he must be somewhere. Laurent refuses to consider that Auguste is only here because Damen is not. He will have to find out about the state of affairs in Akielos and manipulate a way to get Damen here. Damen was in that cave too, so there must be a chance that  _ his _ Damen has also come into this world with all these memories.

He’s so busy trying to figure out where to go from here, that he barely takes notice of the council meeting. It’s about things of little consequence to Laurent: new roads, taxes, some scandal about a Lord he doesn’t care about. He looks at the councillors - Herode, Jeurre, Audin, Chelaut, and Guion are all there. Guion is particularly unwelcome (although perhaps he’s better in this world: perhaps the leadership of Auguste has caused everyone to be the best version of themselves), but the notable absence of his uncle is enough for Laurent. Perhaps the old man died at Marlas in Auguste’s place. Or maybe, if this really was the world of Laurent’s heartfelt wishes, his uncle had died in the womb like he deserved. 

Four years with Damen has turned him into an optimist. Or maybe it’s just the unbridled joy of getting to sit next to his brother, his King, like this. The men don’t seem to pay him much mind or ask for his opinions, but that makes sense. He is the youngest of them here, it is possible he hasn’t proven himself yet. He does make one suggestion regarding a tricky situation involving taxes (that he’d already solved before, in his original life), and the council goes silent for a long moment.

“An excellent solution!” Guion says. 

“It is,” Auguste agrees, but he seems unhappy about it. “If we’re all in agreement then?”

Other than that, the meeting is fairly unremarkable. 

“Where are you going?” Auguste asks, when it’s finally over and Laurent stands to leave. 

“The library,” Laurent says. Auguste seems troubled by something, and Laurent won’t be able to figure out what it is without doing a little research. 

-

 

An afternoon spent in the library reveals very little to Laurent until he finds a record of recent battles and treaties. The Battle of Marlas still took place, he reads. His father was still killed in the melee. Damen and Auguste fought on the field, except this time, when Auguste first disarmed Damianos, instead of letting him collect his sword he’d offered a treaty.

This means Damen is still alive. If their kingdoms are allies now too, it won’t be too hard to find a reason for the Akielons to come visit. 

Oddly, there’s no mention anywhere of what has happened to his uncle.

-

 

The next day, Laurent takes breakfast with his brother in the private dining room. Auguste once again has that curious frown on his face that Laurent cannot figure out. His best guess is that Auguste has noticed he’s acting differently and is concerned. Or maybe Laurent is meant to be doing something that he doesn’t know of. 

“What are your plans today, brother?” Laurent says, buttering a tartine. 

“Why the interest?” Auguste replies. Which is… odd. Still, Laurent powers on. He just hasn’t got used to interacting with Auguste like this yet. He’ll figure out the nuances of their relationship.

“I thought,” Laurent says, “perhaps we could go riding together later? If you have the time.”

Auguste looks at him for a very long moment, considering. Laurent has never felt so self-concious under scrutiny as he does now that his brother is the one delivering it.

“Out of all your manipulations,” Auguste says, standing up and throwing the cloth napkin from his lap onto his plate, “this is the least subtle. Don’t come to the meeting today.”

With that, he walks out, leaving Laurent rather oddly feeling like he’s been slapped.

- 

 

Aimeric appears at Laurent’s side after breakfast. Laurent almost jumps at the sight of another ghost come to life. 

“Where were you yesterday?” he says, sounding irritated. 

Laurent frowns. His first instinct is to snap at Aimeric to not question his Prince, but he can’t risk alienating anyone too much until he has an understanding of how things are in this reality. “I had a council meeting,” he replies.

Aimeric makes an odd face, “So the King is finally making you attend them?”

“No,” Laurent says. “I chose to go.”

“Why?” 

“To support my brother.”

Aimeric snorts. “Fine, be secretive,” he says. “But you better come to the arena today. I’m going to introduce you to Henri.”

It’s an odd thought, that there’s a reality where Aimeric seems to be Laurent’s friend. He supposes they are close in age, it’s not entirely unbelievable. Laurent follows Aimeric to where the soldiers practice. He leads Laurent to a small cluster of men, who are talking in the posturing way that soldiers especially tend to do. A few of them smile when they see Laurent and Aimeric.

“Decided to show your face today?” One of them cheerfully asks. They all look at least vaguely familiar, men that Laurent must have seen before but never really interacted with. 

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Aimeric says, grinning back. He grabs one of the men by the arm and pulls him towards Laurent. “Your highness, this is Henri. He’s from Toutaine.”

Laurent nods at him. Everyone is watching the interaction, seemingly waiting for him to do something. They are in a training arena, Laurent thinks, looking at rack of swords nearby. 

“How about a friendly duel?” he tries. 

This is clearly not the reaction they’re expecting. “Are you sure?” Henri asks. It’s only a little insulting. 

Laurent walks over to the rack and selects a sword. “Yes,” he says. 

Henri is a good swordsman. He focuses a lot on attack, but he’s conscious of leaving Laurent as few openings as possible. He’s good, but Laurent has spent the last four years duelling with Damen. Damen is exceptional.

Laurent lets the match go on for long enough to not be completely embarrassing for his opponent, since apparently he’s meant to be making friends, and then uses a particularly complicated disarming technique. Henri’s sword hits the dirt. His chest is heaving.

Henri swears. “I didn’t expect that,” he says. “You can fight.”

There’s an aura of shock around the men; Laurent’s not sure why they’d meet at the fighting arenas together if this weren’t the intention. “Yes,” Laurent says.

“Not even Auguste can fight like that,” Aimeric pipes in, and Laurent is about to deny  _ that  _ when the boy adds, “Not since his shoulder got injured.”

“Maybe not even before then,” One of the others says.

Laurent frowns.

Henri looks at Laurent and nods. “He’s right,” he says, and then: “You should be King.”

It’s shocking in the way that Laurent has never heard anyone insinuate anything like this about Auguste before. Even when the court had been fond of spreading incest rumours about Laurent and his brother, it had always been implied that Laurent was the morally deficient one. To even suggest that Auguste isn’t worthy of his kingship is beyond Laurent’s imagination.

He doesn’t choose to act - he just reacts. Laurent drops his sword, and punches Henri in the face. The soldier staggers. Laurent can here Aimeric gasp. 

“Watch your tongue,” Laurent says, “or I’ll cut it out.”

Henri looks back at him with wide eyes. His mouth is red; he must have bit his lip. 

Laurent turns to the others. “Auguste is your king by right. Be careful before you disrespect him or you’ll be dealt with accordingly.” He is struck by the urge to be as far away from these men as possible. They’re all gaping at him as if they thought their insinuations were anything but treason. They all part when he marches past them and back towards the palace.

“Laurent!” Aimeric is the only one stupid enough to follow, it seems. “Laurent, wait.”

Even if he’s not the heir in this world, Laurent is a prince and he so he doesn’t stop for Aimeric. The boy has to jog to catch up. Laurent waits until they are hidden from view to strike. He turns and shoves Aimeric against a wall. The boy gasps. He has one arm across Aimeric’s chest to pin him, and the other he can feel shaking. He’s so shocked and angry that he can’t even contain his own emotions.

Laurent is ready to scold Aimeric, to assault him with words until the boy regrets introducing Laurent to that would-be traitor. To regret even being born in the first place. But Aimeric’s eyes are filled with shock and vulnerability and it’s a look that Laurent has seen before. He thinks of Aimeric - a different Aimeric - with his blood soaked sleeve, still clutching that piece of broken window pane. 

Laurent steps back. Aimeric keeps his back pressed against the wall of his own accord. “Leave me alone,” Laurent says, each word precise. 

Aimeric nods and practically flees.

-

 

There is an issue in the simple fact that a soldier thought it acceptable to slander Auguste to Laurent’s face. No man who valued his life would do such a thing. Unless…

Unless, it was thought that Laurent would accept such an awful statement. That he’d be happier to hear someone praise him over his brother. He thinks again of the men’s shock when he’d punch Henri. They hadn’t expected it. Aimeric, who was acting like a friend, hadn’t expected it.

There are only two reasons why the entire situation would have come about. The first is unthinkable, and so Laurent doesn’t even entertain it. The second, is that he and Auguste are play acting as enemies in order for Laurent to weed out possible dissenters. He can accept that, despite how distasteful the idea of him even pretending to be at odds with Auguste is. It is a plot for the sake of Auguste’s rule. 

This means that by jumping into this timeline, with no memories of it’s past, Laurent is ruining the plot by his ignorance. His first act needs to be finding out more about it, without letting on that he knows nothing. 

This he can do. 

-

 

Auguste is sitting by the window, idly flicking through the pages of a book. It’s one of the ones that Laurent had pulled out the night before: the tome dedicated to recording battles. Laurent smiles.

“There’s no pictures in that one,” he says, and Auguste startles slightly. “Do you need me to read it to you?” It was a joke they used to make when Laurent had been a child and Auguste would complain over long documents that father wanted his opinion on. Judging by Auguste’s answering expression - it falls flat.

Auguste watches Laurent approach the shelves. “What are you looking for?” he asks.

“I’m not sure,” Laurent says, honest.

Auguste sighs. “I heard that you assaulted one of my men today.”

“Ah,” Laurent turns to face his brother. “If Henri of Toutaine can’t handle a light slap, then I’d hate to see him in the field.”

“Laurent,” Auguste says, and it sounds almost like he’s being scolded. 

“We had a difference of opinion,” Laurent says. “Now it has been handled. Recommend me a book.”

“ _ Renard the Fox _ ,” Auguste says.

“A book with pictures,” Laurent grins and turns towards the shelves to find it. “I should have known. Ah!” He finds it with a small group of other fables. They’re in the same place as they were when Auguste used to read them to him at night. 

Laurent sits on the end of Auguste’s chaise, tucking his feet under him. He opens the book.

“You’re going to read it?” Auguste says. 

“Why not?” Laurent says. It’s about a trickster fox. It used to be one of his favourites. It might become so again. 

“Laurent,” Auguste says. He puts his own book down but still hesitates. “What are you wearing?”

It had actually taken some effort to find a jacket that wasn’t ridiculously elaborate. He’d wanted something blue and gold, but the closest he could get was a simple navy. It was the plainest thing available. He’s eschewed the earrings altogether. 

“Clothing,” Laurent says. “Now are you going to sit quietly or do you want me to read to you?”

Auguste just shakes his head and goes back to flicking through his own book.

-

 

They don’t speak for the rest of their time in the library, but Laurent considers it a win. Getting to spend any time with Auguste is a blessing, he has had ten years of his brother’s absence to teach him that.

Eventually they have to leave the silent company of the library and go to dinner. Aimeric sits next to Laurent tonight, and he spends the entire evening trying to get Laurent to speak privately with him. Laurent ignores him. Auguste seems to be dividing his time between talking to councillors and giving Laurent odd looks. 

“You’re not drinking tonight,” Auguste somehow says it like it’s both a statement and a question.

Laurent glances at his untouched wine goblet. He supposes in a world without his uncle (and all the innocuous things Laurent associates with him), perhaps he enjoys drinking wine. He considers the dark liquid and then decides against it anyway. If he drinks too much, he might misstep. It’s not worth the risk.

“No,” Laurent says. “I’ve not the taste for it tonight.”

“Hmm,” Auguste murmurs, and then also switches to water for the rest of the evening. 

- 

 

The common people down in the streets of Arles are nice to him. They offer him samples and tell him things about their families and jobs as if he’s enquired about it in the past. One woman asks him about a project he’s apparently working on and he has to make quick excuses. It seems his role as the second son is a charitable one. The people love him. It’s odd but not unwelcome.

By the time the sun is at its highest peak, Laurent has discovered that he owns and funds: an orphanage, a school for poor children, and a charity for the widow’s of soldiers. Apparently, he is quite the philanthropist. The more people that come to personally thank him for his endeavours, the more uneasy Laurent gets.

If he were a good brother and the prince that he had intended to be, then none of these people would be recognising or thanking him. All of these charities would be done in Auguste’s name and the people would be praising their king while Laurent hid in the background. 

He tries to convince himself that there’s an explanation for this - he isn’t a traitor to his brother’s rule - but Laurent loses all hope when one of the men he meets leads him to the front of the school, where disadvantaged children are being given a chance at education and also indoctrinated into the belief that Laurent is helping them more than their king is.

The school is named after his uncle.

-

 

When Laurent gets back to his rooms, he locks himself inside and spends a good twenty minutes with his head hanging between his knees as he forces himself to breathe. Once that is under control, he opens the door for long enough to order one of his guards - he doesn’t know their name and he obviously can’t just ask for it - to send for Aimeric. While he waits, he tears through every chest that he can find on his desk and under his bed and in his closet, until he finds the one filled with documents about his properties.

He has inherited every single one of his uncle’s former properties. At least this proves that the monster is dead. Laurent tries desperately not to think the worst. Perhaps… maybe with Auguste by his side, Laurent was never made aware of his uncle’s foul proclivities and so found some amount of grief in his death. 

He keeps flicking through the documents. It looks like he founded the school when he was seventeen. That would be too old for him to be in his uncle’s favour. He remembers that he was no longer a fool to his uncle’s true character when he was seventeen. This is good. It reinforces his theory that the name of the school was an innocent act of grief or remembrance. Laurent can handle that.

There’s a knock on the door, and then Aimeric is letting himself in. “You wanted…” Aimeric begins, then falters when he sees Laurent, sitting on the floor and surrounded by a mess of papers, “to...see me?”

“Yes,” Laurent says, standing up. “You’ve been trying to get my attention. You have it. Now talk.”

Aimeric, surprisingly, doesn’t flinch at the steely tone.

“I just don’t understand,” he says, and with the way he launches into the speech, he’s clearly been pondering on this for some time. “You said Henri was important. You said we needed Toutaine on our side for any chance of succeeding. It took me weeks to convince him to consider you and then you just- just  _ ruined it all _ !” 

Laurent stops to face Aimeric and the boy almost runs into him. He isn’t making sense. Or he is, if his words are put into that inconceivable context. “What place is it of yours to question my actions?”

“I’m your future advisor,” Aimeric says, “It’s my role to question when you start acting mad! What do you want me to do? I might be able to mend things with Henri. I’ll tell him that he needs to be more discreet about our plans.”

“What plans?” Laurent says. He won’t consider it.

“ _ Our plans _ ,” Aimeric says.

“What plans?” He insists.

Aimeric looks around. The room is clearly empty. “You want me to say it?”

“Yes,” Laurent says. “Tell me what our goal is.”

“To overthrow Auguste,” Aimeric says. “To put you on the throne.”

-

 

Laurent stays calm for long enough to have Aimeric write him a list of every dissenter they’ve spoken to. 

“Is this a test?” Aimeric says.

“Yes.”

“You said…” Aimeric hesitates, “not to write anything down. That’s how you get caught.”

“I’m testing your memory,” Laurent replies. “I’ll burn it afterwards. Trust me.”

Aimeric, apparently does.

Once Laurent has the paper, he sends his co conspirator away and then forces himself to breathe deep for a count of ten. He knows his weakness is when he lets his emotions overwhelm him - Damen has ensured that he’s aware of that fact - and he knows he needs to resist acting impulsively. Still. Sometimes one just needs to destroy things.

Laurent pulls the gaudy, elaborate off his bed and - fuck it - throws them out the window. Let someone underneath have them, he can’t look at them anymore. He tears open his wardrobe and gets every red fucking jacket and tears them apart with a knife. Next he turns to the dresser and finds all the jewellery he can. He can’t destroy that, but he can get rid of it. He drops it all into a pile on his bed and wraps it up with a sheet and then dumps it all in a chest. He’s have it dropped in a river or left in the poorest district there is. 

He wants to kill every man who would be cowardly enough to side with him over his brother. He wants to find this old version of himself and destroy them. He wants to burst into Auguste’s chambers and demand to know why it’s like this. Why they don’t love each other anymore. He wants to scream.

The last one, he can do and so he does. He yells, as loudly as he can and almost gets through his entire lungs capacity of air when the door cracks open the his guard peeks their head in. Laurent stops.

“...your highness?” the guard says, awkwardly pretending to ignore the state of Laurent’s chambers.

“You,” Laurent says. “What’s your name?”

“Alexandre?” he replies. He makes it sound like he’s unsure of that himself.

The guard Alexandre. He’s on Aimeric’s list. 

“Leave Arles,” Laurent says. “And don’t come back.”

“Your highness?”

“If you don’t,” he says, “then I will kill you and I will hang your head on the gates like the traitor you are.”

Alexandre’s face goes white. “This,” he says, “was all a set-up?”

“Yes,” Laurent takes that and clings to it. From now on, that’s the truth he will choose. “Yes. I have been weeding out traitors to my brother, the True King, and now the time for punishment will come. Feel free to spread the word. Let them all know that their days are numbered.”

Alexandre leaves and takes all of Laurent’s irrational anger with him. Finally, Laurent sits down - in the eye of the storm - and lets himself reach a level of calmness. 

He can fix this. He has not lived through the years of hell that he did to be given this chance to have Auguste and not see it through. He wishes viscerally that Damen were here, just to hold him and quiet the raging thoughts, but he’s not. And Laurent doesn’t even know if it’s his Damen in this world. He sighs. 

He can do it alone, then. Just like old times.

-

First he finds a servant. He doesn’t remember the boy’s name, but he can vaguely recall seeing him in the other-Arles and that he was always quiet and gentle. “There’s a chest in my chambers,” Laurent says. “It’s wooden and it has red stones on it.”

The boy nods.

“Take it,” Laurent says. “Everything in it is yours now. But it has to be out of my sight before I return.”

Next he sends a message out that every single one of his guards is to be turned off. They can find work elsewhere. Then, Laurent heads back into the town. He needs new sheets, and more jackets, and some space. 

-

 

He’s almost through the entire main street when he hears a small voice shouting down an alley. The familiarity of the voice washes over Laurent in a way that makes him feel cold. He follows the noise.

“Fuck off,” the boy is saying, to an older looking man. “I didn’t steal shit.” 

Nicaise is exactly as beautiful as he was in the palace, but also a lot dirtier. His clothing is threadbare, torn at the knees, and his curls are a mess. Laurent has always known that Nicaise had come from poverty in the way he used to hoard food in his room and talk brashly. His choice had been no choice at all. 

“No, you just distracted me while your little friend robbed me.” The man is gripping Nicaise’s arm tightly, stopping him from escaping.

“Prove it!” Nicaise says. “Or let me go, old man.”

“Is everything alright?” Laurent says, calmly.

The man immediately recognises him and drops Nicaise. “My apologies for bothering you, your highness,” he says. “The child stole from me and I was just making sure justice was had.”

“I did not!” Nicaise says, crossing his arms.

Laurent ignores him, he can’t quite bring himself to look Nicaise in the eyes yet, and hands the man some coin. “For your missing stock,” he says. “I’ll make sure the boy is dealt with.”

The man takes the coin - he’s dressed like a baker, it’s probably a lot more than the stolen goods are worth - and leaves, thanking Laurent the whole way. 

Laurent looks down at Nicaise. He’s a little older than he was the last time Laurent saw him in Arles, but no taller. Malnutrition does that.

“This isn’t fair,” Nicaise says, pouting. “He didn’t even have any proof. You shouldn’t get to punish me.”

“I didn’t say I’d punish you,” Laurent says. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Nicaise says. “I’m starving. And now that old man’s going to tell everyone to watch out for me.”

“Ah,” Laurent says, thoughtfully. He can hardly take Nicaise back to the palace with him, people will talk. Instead, he holds out his coin purse and drops it into Nicaise hand’s. The bag is heavy, definitely more than a street urchin has ever held. 

Nicaise’s eyes are huge as he looks down at it and then back up at Laurent. “What...” he says, nervously. “What do you want for it?”

“Nothing,” Laurent says. “Do you know who I am?”

Nicaise nods.

“Good. Come back here tomorrow,” he says, “Same time. I’ll try and find you a job and somewhere to live between now and then.”

“Okay,” Nicaise says, warily.

“Stay safe,” Laurent says. He has to leave. He can’t keep looking at those bright eyes when all they make him think of is a sapphire earring and a bloodied bag.

-

 

The next day Laurent skips breakfast with Auguste and rides out early for Varenne. Laurent has no knowledge of this world, but enough of the old one to know what people are most likely Auguste’s men. 

“Your Highness,” Lord Berenger says, when Laurent shows up at his manor. He’s voice is polite but his body language is clearly hostile. “You didn’t send word of your visit.”

“I didn’t want to give you time to find an excuse,” Laurent says. “Can we talk?”

“By all means.” 

They go to a sitting room, plainly decorated - he hasn’t changed, and a servant brings them tea. 

“How are the horses?” Laurent says.

“Exceptional,” Berenger replies, “as always.” He doesn’t even perk up at the mention of his favoured animals. There relationship truly must be strained in this world.

Alright then. Might as well cut to it. “You have a pet, don’t you?” Hopefully.

“Last time you saw him,” Berenger says, and yes, that’s definitely vitriol in his voice, “you said he barely counted as a pet anymore. You’ve changed your mind?”

“I’d like to speak with him.”

They sit in a tense silent for a very long moment before Berenger nods slightly at his servant and the man disappears. “Well,” he says. “I can hardly refuse royalty.”

Laurent’s tea is cold by the time the pet makes his appearance. It’s Ancel, just as Laurent had hoped, but he’s - different. His face is still the same, all porcelain beauty and kohl rimmed eyes. His hair, which used to run down to his waist, is now shorter. The left side is cropped entirely - shorn almost to his skull in red fluff. The right side hangs to brush his shoulders. The reason for the odd haircut is immediately apparent. The entire left side of Ancel’s shoulder - from the crook of his neck to his elbow - is covered in a thick burn scar. Laurent is suddenly very grateful that he was not there to witness - or remember witnessing - the boy go up in flames. His firedance had always been risky, and Laurent knows Ancel must have taken the injury as a personal failing. 

Ancel barely gives Laurent a second glance before he’s slinking across the room to drape himself in his lover’s lap. He sits so that the burnt side is the side on display. Laurent can respect that.

“Ancel,” Laurent says.

“I am,” he replies. “If you’re hoping for a performance, I’m afraid I’ve retired my firesticks. And” - he makes a presentation of looking around the room - “it looks like you don’t have a guard to throw wine on me, so…”

Laurent swears. 

Berenger makes an odd expressions at that, and Laurent realises he’d sworn in Akielon. Some habits are hard to break, apparently. 

“Don’t pretend,” Ancel says, leaning forward angrily. “I know you had a hand in that even if you won’t admit it.”

Laurent passionately hopes that isn’t true. “All my guards have been turned off,” Laurent says. “If it makes you feel better, tell me the name of the one that caused your -- accident -- and I’ll send you his head.”

“Fuck you,” Ancel says.

Berenger puts a hand on his shoulder and pulls the pet back against his chest. He gives Ancel a look.

“Your highness,” Ancel spits, in response.

“Ancel has much to do today,” Berenger says. “Did you want to see him for a reason?”

“Yes,” Laurent says. “I understand that you may view me as something of a traitor to my brother’s crown. I have come to reveal the ruse.”

“The ruse?” Berenger clarifies.

“Yes,” Laurent replies. He knows how to lie convincingly. It’s time to make a new truth for his backstory. “My brother’s court is in trouble. It has been for some time. I had to present myself as an enemy to him in order to weed out all the potential dissenters.”

They both look skeptical. “You’ve been outspoken against your brother’s decision since you were fourteen and he murdered your uncle.”

Laurent very carefully keeps his expression neutral. He knows he takes a second too long to answer, but he forges ahead anyway. “Yes,” he says. “My uncle was the first traitor. He was plotting to kill both Auguste and myself in order to seize the throne.”

“And so you took over his plot?”

“I needed to find out who he was working with and bring them down. I’m willing to do anything to keep my brother safe.”

“And Auguste knows of all this?”

“No,” Laurent says. “Auguste despises deception.”

“So his dislike of you is real then?” Ancel cuts in, intending to hurt.

“Like I said: I’m willing to do anything for Auguste. Whether he appreciates it or not.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Berenger asks.

“I need Ancel’s help.”

Ancel regards him tensely, before he seems to let go of the hostility and his shoulders drop. “Did you really get rid of all your guards?”

“Yes,” Laurent replies. “I am sorry that I couldn’t control them as well as I should have.”

The pet nods. “What do you need me to do?” he asks quietly, and then scoffs. “I doubt I could seduce anybody like this.”

Berenger frowns.

“I honestly believe you could,” Laurent replies. “But that’s not what I need.” He reaches into his riding jacket and pulls out folded paper. “I need your gossip. Here is a list of every man who would betray our King. I just want to give them a few reasons to never want to risk it.”

“You want blackmail,” Ancel says. He looks suddenly delighted. 

“Darling, you don’t have to-” Berenger begins, but Ancel puts a hand on his mouth to cut him off.

“No,” Ancel says. “But I want to.”

-

 

After Laurent gets the information he needs - and there’s a lot of it, he may suggest Ancel be installed as a palace spy when this is all over - he has to push his horse a little more than he’d like to get back to Arles in time to meet Nicaise.

That particular meeting is simple enough. He escorts the boy to the orphanage he owns and makes sure the people who run it know to consider anything that Nicaise needs for food or clothing or education paid for. Laurent also makes sure to mention Auguste to them, and how grateful Laurent is that his brother saw fit to put him in charge of all these charitable endeavours for the country.

Finally, he rides back to the palace to join his brother - and the court - for dinner. 

“You’ve got a healthy appetite tonight,” Auguste comments. He only takes from plates that Laurent’s also touched, he’s noticed. Laurent tries to keep the idea that his own brother would suspect him of poisoning out of mind.

“I skipped breakfast,” Laurent says, “and forgot lunch.”

Auguste pushes a plate of meat closer to him. “You’ve been busy today then.”

“Very,” Laurent agrees. “Perhaps we could discuss it after dinner?”

Auguste glances at Herode, who probably thinks the slight shake of his head is subtle. Auguste purses his lips. “Alright,” he says.

“Oh.” Laurent blinks. “Okay. Good.” He can’t help it - he smiles. 

Auguste, with a shocked countenance, offers a wary half-smile back.

-

 

After dinner, Auguste leads them back to his chambers. Jord frowns from his place at the door, but doesn’t comment. 

“Wine?” Auguste offers, moving to fill a goblet of his own.

“No,” Laurent says. “Thank you.”

His brother takes a seat on one of his couches and Laurent takes the cue to join him after pouring himself some water. “Why the sudden distaste?”

“I find it hard to believe anyone genuinely enjoys wine. It’s bitter.”

“The Patrans have some sweet whites I could have imported.”

In his first year together with Damen, after the deaths of Kastor and Uncle, Laurent had accidentally drunken a few sips of poisoned Patran wine - courtesy of someone not happy with the Veretian Akielon alliance. It hadn’t been enough to kill him, thankfully, but Laurent had had a wretched night of vomiting into a pan while Damen gently pushed sweat soaked hair out of his eyes and held him tightly.

Laurent almost has to close his eyes against the rush of longing he feels for his husband. “I heard the Akielons have their own spirit. Two tablespoons is supposedly enough to rob a man of his wits.”

“No, you’re thinking of poison,” Auguste says. 

“Truly,” Laurent insists. “It’s called griva and the northern men drink it like it proves their masculinity.”

“I’d believe that,” Auguste says. “I heard a rumour that for the same reason, they fuck their horses.”

Laurent chokes on his water. “Auguste!”

Auguste smiles. “Maybe not, but I’d believe that too.”

“Speaking of Akielos,” Laurent says, “I think I’ve found some trading options that will benefit both countries.”

“Alright,” Auguste replies. “You can bring it up to them, when King Damianos visits next month.”

“Next month?” Laurent says.

“Yes. Did I forget to tell you? They postponed the meeting by a couple of weeks after Prince Kastor was murdered. There are extended mourning periods and rites that they carry out over there.”

Prince Kastor is dead. At least that means Laurent won’t have to find a reason to go to Akielos and cut him down again. Damen must be heartbroken - whichever version of Damen it is in this world. 

“Ah, well that will give me time to refine the proposal.” Technically he came up with the proposal years ago when he and Damen were trying to lessen the prejudice between their countries, but it should still work in this world.

Auguste sighs, a sudden drop in mood, and puts down his wine. “Laurent,” he says. “What are you doing?”

Laurent looks down at his own goblet. He shouldn’t feel guilt over a past he had no hand in, but he can’t help it. “What do you mean?”

“I hear you redecorated your rooms yesterday. Let’s start with that.”

“They were no longer to my taste.” 

“You gave Felix a chest full of all your jewellery.”

“Not all of it,” Laurent says. “I kept my signet ring and mother’s pendant.”

The expression on Auguste’s face for the split second Laurent sees it, before his brother buries it in his hands, is distressing. “You are breaking my heart, Laurent,” he says. “It is the cruelest thing you have ever done to give me hope like this. I could handle the vitriol because I knew it was my fault for… dealing with things wrong, when we were younger, but this… Don’t give me hope that you are changing, that we can overcome the past, if it is another one of your plots against me. I would rather you cut out my heart than face that.”

Laurent is finding it quite hard to breathe. “Nothing is your fault,” he manages to say. 

Auguste laughs, in a way that makes it sounds like an alternative to tears. “Now I know you’re being false.”

“No,” Laurent replies, desperately. He moves across the couch until he is right by Auguste’s side. “No, I am not. Auguste. Brother. I want to fix this. You are the only family I have left. You’re the only person who has always protected me-”

“I left you with him,” Auguste bursts out with. “I wasn’t protecting you then, when I put being King ahead of taking care of you. You were just a boy and I left him in charge of you. I was relieved when he offered-”

“There is no fault in not thinking the worst of people. Auguste, you are good. You are too good to suspect such things. I shouldn’t have let him convince me-”

“You were a child,” Auguste interrupts, and his lifts his head and says it with such anger that Laurent can imagine him murdering their uncle. 

He knows enough now to figure out what happened in his past. Auguste must have discovered him and their uncle together and killed him. But Laurent, young and under his uncle’s power, still believing the false whispers of love, would have been traumatised at seeing death like that. The shame and trauma and misplaced ideas of love must have twisted him to blame Auguste for all his misfortune. Laurent hates the boy that held Auguste responsible for anything but saving him.

“Auguste, I cannot bear what we have become,” Laurent says, eyes hot. “I know you have no reason to trust me, I know that I have been awful to you, but I have to try. Please, just tell me if it’s possible. Do you have enough affection left for me that we might be able to rebuild?”

“Laurent,” Auguste says, and then - to Laurent’s shock - his brother starts to cry. It’s something that he’s never witnessed before, a heartrending sight. “I love you more than my own life. If you are being true, then I want to try.”

-

 

It’s very wrong how grateful Auguste seems when Laurent is just doing all the things he had only dreamed he could. He attends every council meeting with Auguste and offers whatever solutions he can. Auguste looks happier every time Laurent comes up with a particularly clever idea (although that feels something like cheating, because Laurent has faced most of these problems before and thus can think of solutions faster than everyone else).

They eat breakfast together, just the two of them, every morning. It’s Laurent’s favourite part of each day. Sometimes the conversation is painfully awkward or one of them will make a misstep, but it’s better than it was because at least now they’re both trying. 

One morning, Auguste looks up from where he’s meticulously peeling an apple and says, “The weather is so nice today, we should go riding.”

They go to the stables together, and Auguste sends away all the guards and stable hands so that it’s just the two of them. If Laurent were truly plotting against his brother, this would be the moment to strike. Instead, they both saddle their horses themselves and set off through the hills together. 

“Blue suits you,” Auguste says, casually gesturing to Laurent’s new riding jacket.

“Everything suits me,” Laurent replies, breezily. 

“Everything except modesty, apparently,” Auguste laughs.

Laurent smiles at him. “Do you see that tree in the distance, the one with broken branch there?”

Auguste grins. “Yes.”

“Wonderful,” Laurent says. “I’m going to enjoy beating you to it.” And then he digs his heels in, and he’s off. 

There’s a special kind of joy to be found in horse-riding. Laurent has always had a special affinity for the creatures - horses are strong and beautiful and proud - and nothing can compare to the rush of wind through his hair when he rides. Laurent knows he’s a fine equestrian - it’s not bragging, but a simple fact. He’s very difficult to out-do.

And then Auguste’s horse pulls ahead and Auguste is raising his hands in triumph.

“You beat me,” Laurent says, stunned, when he catches up.

Auguste laughs. “Pick your jaw up.”

Laurent shakes his head. “No, I refuse to believe this. Horses are my thing. Everything else is yours.”

“Well now horses are my thing too,” Auguste says, smugly. “The proof is here.”

“Swap horses with me,” Laurent says. “I demand a rematch.”

“Really?” Auguste looks amused by Laurent’s disbelief. Like he’s being cute.

“Yes,” Laurent replies. “You’ve just changed my entire worldview. I need to make sure it’s not a fluke.”

“You know I used to let you win,” Auguste teases, “when we were children.”

“Slander,” Laurent says.

Auguste obediently gets off of his horse. “Do you need a hand getting on her?”

“I’m not that much shorter than you,” Laurent says, knocking shoulders when he passes his brother.

They race again. Auguste wins.

“This is a nightmare,” Laurent says, dismounting. “I’m never going to live this down.”

“Definitely not,” Auguste says, but he’s laughing and he gets down too and throws an arm around Laurent’s shoulders, which is a moment Laurent is willing to sacrifice his pride for.

“Now, let’s leave the horses here. There’s a lake down that hill and I want to beat you at swimming as well.” 

Laurent has spent the last several years swimming off the coasts of Akielos with Damen. “You’re on,” he says, grinning.

-

 

Apparently, Auguste has chosen to slack off from his duties for the entire day, to spend time with Laurent. It’s possibly one of the best days of Laurent’s life. As Laurent remembers, Auguste shows his affection through physical pursuits. 

So after horse-riding and swimming (Laurent wins), they go back to the palace and duel. Auguste has always been skilled with a blade, he might as well have been born with one in his hand it’s so natural to him, whereas Laurent had to painstakingly train to have even a modicum of his brother’s ease.

That’s how Laurent knows that something is wrong. Auguste is still good, great even, but there’s a stiffness to his movements that shows his effort. Laurent remembers Aimeric mentioning something about this when Laurent had fought Henri - he implied that Auguste’s shoulder was injured. 

“Show me it,” Laurent says, dropping his sword and frowning.

“What?” Auguste frowns.

“The injury.”

Auguste doesn’t seem to know how to react to this. He looks at Laurent for a long moment and then puts his own sword up. They’ve already stripped down to their undershirts to fight, so all he has to do is tug off the white gauzy fabric.

The scar is a jagged, ugly thing, that reminds Laurent of the souvenir he got from Govart right before Laurent killed him. It’s across Auguste’s right shoulder, large enough to make Laurent wince. 

“Is it painful?” Laurent asks, frowning.

“Just tight,” Auguste replies, “uncomfortable. There’s not a lot that can be done about that. Don’t worry about it.”

Marlas, Laurent wants to say, except a sword would do much more damage than this and Damen doesn’t fight with a dagger. Then Laurent looks at the tense line of Auguste’s shoulders under Laurent’s inspection and thinks, Ah.

“It looks bad,” Laurent says, then, “I don’t really remember it happening.”

“ _ Laurent _ ,” Auguste says, sounding pained. 

“Tell me. We can’t expect to move past things if we don’t talk about them.” He thinks of long, painful nights with Damen, discussing Damen’s time in Arles. That had been as tough as pulling teeth - Damen had an ability for denial that was shocking. 

Auguste sighs, heavily. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I attacked him, I didn’t see the knife until it was in me. Paschal said the wound was only so bad because I kept hitting him while it was still in my arm. I don’t regret it.”

Auguste has a habit, Laurent has noticed, of avoiding their uncle’s name. It’s always he. After the coup, when Laurent had been crowned, he’d had their uncle’s name stripped from all records. He still existed in their histories, but only to be referred to as ‘King Aleron’s brother’ and ‘The Regent’, and ‘The Attempted Usurper’. It had been both petty and deeply satisfying to ensure that future generations would not know his name. Auguste seems to share the same opinion - he doesn’t deserve to be named or remembered.

Laurent puts his hand over Auguste’s scar. The image in his head has been re-written. He had thought perhaps Auguste had gutted their uncle with his sword, not that he’d beaten him to death with his own bare hands. It must have been truly traumatic to witness. “Thank you,” Laurent says, quietly. Earnestly.

Auguste puts his hand over Laurent’s. “I don’t regret it,” he says again.

-

 

Eventually the weeks pass, and his relationship with his brother continues to repair. There’s still a hesitance between them - a mutual desire not to hurt something that feels so fragile - but they’re getting better. It’s good. 

It means that when the Akielons are due to arrive, Laurent will be able to afford giving Damianos attention. He doesn’t know what to think about that. They were both in that cave together, so surely there’s a possibility they were both sent to the same place. Unless Damen wished for something different - his father still alive, or a better relationship with his brother - and that would mean he’s been sent to a whole other world. Or perhaps Damen stepped out of that cave and back into the same world as they began in, and he’s none the wiser about this strange journey Laurent has been on.

Laurent doesn’t know what he’ll do if the Damen of this world is a completely different man. Their mutual love and respect was built on the hardships and trials they faced together. He doesn’t think he could form the same bond with a Damianos that knew nothing of what they’d endured.

Or perhaps it’ll be his same Damen, and he’ll be married to Jokaste or a Patran princess or someone else, and they’ll have to live in this world together but apart.

There are too many possibilities, and only one way for Laurent to find out. 

-

 

On the day of the Akielon’s arrival, Laurent convinces Auguste to let him ride to meet them on the outskirts of Arles and then escort them to the palace himself. Auguste insists he take a guard, and Laurent surveys his options and chooses against Jord (who is still giving Laurent mistrusting looks) and looks for someone else familiar.

“Lazar,” Laurent says, approaching him. Laurent hasn’t figured out yet how Lazar managed to go from mercenary to King’s guard in this world, but all the same he’s glad that he did.

Lazar frowns. “I was wondering when it would be my turn,” he says. “Honestly, I’m a little insulted it took you this long. Has my reputation as a ruthless mercenary faded so fast?”

“What.” Laurent says. He hates the way this keeps happening - still half the conversations he has can’t be predicted.

“I was raised by traitors and liars, Prince Laurent,” Lazar says his name with no amount of love. “I know what you’ve been up to. The only reason I haven’t skewered you on my blade is because your brother thinks there’s still hope for that blackened heart of yours.” Lazar takes a step forward until they are almost chest to chest. Had Laurent not already faced countless horrors in his life, he might even be intimidated. Lazar is quite formidable. “I’ll save you the time and let you know that my greatest joy in life, is going to be when you give up this act and finally stage your little coup and I get the order to put you down for good.”

“If there is ever a risk like that to my brother’s rule,” Laurent says, “I should hope you wouldn’t wait on his orders to act.” 

Lazar laughs unhappily and steps away. He leans back against the wall. “Did you want something else, little Prince? I’m busy.”

“I need someone to accompany me to meet the Akielons.”

Lazar sighs. “Take one of your own guards.”

“I still don’t have any,” Laurent tells him. 

This surprises Lazar. “Noone willing to sign up?” he says.

“It doesn’t matter,” Laurent says. “Come with me and supervise. You’ll be close enough to stab me should I commit treason.”

-

 

Normally, Laurent would be expected to take more people with him to meet foreign visitors, especially when one of the guests is a king, but if this is his Damen - and he hopes so badly that it is that he’s almost sick with nerves - then he doesn’t want too many witnesses. He doesn’t know how Damen will react to seeing him.

It is just him and Lazar, sitting on their horses at the edge of the capital and waiting.

“Just you and me,” Lazar says, reflecting Laurent’s thoughts. “Are you sure you’re not luring me out here to seduce me? I don’t like you but I’d consider it.”

“Maybe it’s an ambush,” Laurent suggests.

“I considered that too,” Lazar replies. “But if my vote counts for anything, I’d much prefer the seduction.”

“Rest easy,” Laurent says, dryly. “Your chastity is safe with me.”

Lazar laughs. They continue to banter back and forth while they wait, and it’s almost enough to calm Laurent’s nerves, but then red and gold banners appear in the distance and Laurent’s heart rate reaches a crescendo. 

The Akielon contingent is small, and Laurent gets a glimpse of several faces he recognises, but his attention is caught at the man in the centre front. Damianos looks the same as Laurent remembers, broad and beautiful, and the sunlight falls upon him in a way that doesn’t do any favours to Laurent’s heart-rate.

Seeing him again is like a fresh cup of water after days of dehydration. Laurent finds himself holding his breath as the King draws near and then they are both looking at each other from horseback.

Their eyes lock and King Damianos- no, it’s Damen. Damen smiles.


	3. Act II: Akielos

Damen holds Laurent’s hand as tightly as he can as they exit the cave. He’s grown up with stories like this; he suspects what’s coming. Still, the transition from watching his lover’s golden head move in front of him to sitting down in the King’s quarters at Ios is startling. He drops a goblet of wine that apparently replaced Laurent’s hand.

“Oh,” a dark blonde head pops up in front of him and Damen cannot stifle his surprise.

The last time he saw Lykaios, she was tumbling to the ground in a flash of silk and blood. Now, she’s on her knees, tying his sandals.

“Lykaios,” he says.

The girl takes it as a command and darts off to grab a cloth and clean up his wine spill. If Lykaios is here, adorned in slave cuffs, then Laurent is surely not. His hand clenches. He’s not sure what to do.

“Leave that,” he says.

Lykaios immediately drops her forehead to the ground. He feels sick. She’s dead, he thinks. Her perfect submission got her killed and now she’s here with her silks trailing in wine. The red is staining them.

“You can go,” he says. He knows he sounds choked, upset, and he knows she’s going to take it to think she’s displeased him, but he’s never been good at controlling his emotions. He opens his mouth to apologise or thank her, but she’s already left.

Damen needs to think. He’s in the King’s chambers; that means his father is still dead. All the possessions in the room are Akielon, and look to be his. Laurent must be in Arles, then. He needs information, but he can’t just go questioning people about common knowledge without them thinking him insane.

When Nikandros first returned from his time at the King’s meet, he and Damen had spent the majority of an evening discussing all that had happened. Damen had been young and jealous, and rapt by the information. One of the men that had served alongside Nik, had claimed to have found the cave and asked it to let him to be a guard.

Nikandros will believe him. Or at least, he’ll consider that Damen isn’t entirely insane. Damen writes a quick letter, and then steps out into the hall and turns to the first soldier he sees.

“Pallas,” Damen says, relieved that it’s not another ghost from his past. “I need this letter delivered to Nikandros of-” he pauses, on the cusp of saying Ios. Or would he still be Kyros of Delpha? Maybe neither, there’s no way to know.

Pallas hesitates in taking the note. “Pardon me, Exalted,” he says. He sounds nervous. “But you said no-one but yourself was to see the traitor. Would you like me to take the letter down to him myself or is there someone else you had in mind?”

The traitor? That is…It makes no sense. Damen isn’t prepared for this. He isn’t sure what to say. What would Laurent do? Pretend he knows everything, probably.

“You’re right,” Damen says. “Take me to him.”

Damen knows where he is being led, but he doesn’t understand it. The cells are windowless and grim; these ones in particular are for the worst offenders who are waiting to be brought before King and counsel to be judged. They are small and dirty, offering no comforts but a single bucket in the corner.

Nikandros is the only person occupying a cell. Sometimes, if an offense is bad enough, they’ll isolate a prisoner like this. The ill feeling that has accompanied Damen since he saw sweet Lykaios has only intensified. Nik looks up at him when he arrives, expression dark.

He looks… not as bad as expected. Dirty, but whole. There’s dried blood on his chiton. Neither of them speak for a very long moment.

“Leave us,” Damen says, and Pallas retreats quickly and silently to wait outside. Damen waits until he hears the door slam shut to open his mouth.

Nik cuts in first. “Exalted,” he says, voice rough. “I have told you already: I won’t apologise for what I’ve done and I won’t plead for mercy. When they execute me, know that I have nothing but love for you in my heart. I will not discuss this again.”

This is quickly turning into a nightmare. “Nik,” he says. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

Nikandros frowns. “It’s a lot to take in. I know.”

Damen has no idea what’s going on, and he knows he’s not good at deception. He doesn’t even consider pretending. “I found the cave,” he says. “The travelling cave. I thought a wish and now everything is- Why are you in here? What did you do?”

Nikandros stands up and approaches the bars warily. “You do not remember?”

“I remember everything, but it is of a different world,” Damen says. “I’m not sure where it would have changed. Marlas, I think.”

“Was that your wish?” Nikandros asks, “For Marlas to have gone differently? It can’t have worked: Theomedes still died there.”

Damen reels back. “My father died at Marlas?”

“Yes,” Nikandros says, “I’m sorry.”

“How?”

“In the battle,” Nik says. He hasn’t stopped frowning. Damen doesn’t blame him.

“And I became King then? At nineteen?” Damen can’t imagine it. Ruling as a King that young, and without Laurent by his side. He can’t help but think that there must be a lot of things that he has done in this rule that need to be fixed. “What of Prince Auguste and King Aleron?”

“Aleron also died in the battle,” Nikandros says slowly. “It’s what brought you and King Auguste to make the treaty.”

Damen sits down, on the cold stone floor. Nik kneels in front of him, still obscured by the bars. “Are you alright?”

“Auguste is alive still?”

“Yes,” Nikandros says. “The treaty is in place.”

Laurent must have gotten his wish then. Damen closes his eyes. It means they truly were sent to the same new world. They’ll be able to reunite.

“You truly found the cave?” Nik says, hesitantly.

“Yes,” Damen says. He opens his eyes. “Why are you in here?”

Nikandros steels himself. “I murdered Prince Kastor.”

“Ah,” Damen says. If he weren’t already sitting, he would have had to at that. He hadn’t realised until now that a part of him was hoping Kastor alive. They will have no chance at repairing their relationship it seems. “What did he do?”

This is not the reaction Nik is expecting. “Nothing,” he insists. “I killed him in cold blood.”

Damen sighs. “He was trying to betray me and I wouldn’t believe you?”

“No one believes me,” he says. “If I must die to confirm your rule then I will. He was trying to poison you, but I cannot prove it.”

“And Jokaste?”

Nik frowns. “Yes,” he says. “She also tried to warn you. She helped me figure out Kastor’s plans but left soon afterwards. She didn’t want to be implicated in his death.”

“Alright,” Damen says. He wishes desperately that Laurent were here. He’d know where to go from here. He’d have already started on an elaborate sixteen step plan of action by now. “I have to get you released. If I find Jokaste, will her testimony be enough? Is there anyone else I can go to for evidence of Kastor’s betrayal?”

“You believe me?” Nikandros says.

“Kastor was much less subtle last time.”

-

When he’s finished talking to Nikandros, Damen orders him to be brought food, water and candles regularly. Nik himself warned Damen against seeming too sympathetic to the man who killed his brother, and refused Damen’s offer of a book or something to sleep on.

He assumes he’ll need to send a few groups of men to search various places where Jokaste could be. Last time, Laurent had found her on the border of Aegina and Patras. She had looked happy, Laurent had told him, with tanned skin and a three-year old at her ankles. They’d decided not to make contact in the end. 

It turns out that he doesn’t need to look though, because apparently it is known that Jokaste has gone to the Summer Palace for some solitude. Damen sends men there, and then has to collect himself. He’s not sure he trusts a world where Jokaste is allowed to go off to his mother’s palace whenever she chooses.

-

It’s surprisingly easy to slip into this world as if he belongs there. He goes to his meetings for the day and, while some people look surprised by a few of his decisions, no-one comments on him doing anything different from the norm, so Damen takes from that what he can.

That being said, talking to his fellow countrymen holds a lot less stress when he’s not also trying to make sure he doesn’t offend or upset Vere.

Dinner is non eventful, although Damen does notice that everyone takes great care not to mention Kastor or Nikandros. By the time he’s retired to his chambers for the evening, Damen is fairly sure that he’ll be able to handle things here, despite his memory complications.

Then there’s a knock at the door, and a small, dark haired woman pops her head in.

“Apologies, exalted,” she says, avoiding his gaze. He’s met her before, he thinks. One of Jokaste’s ladies?

“What is it?”

“I’m just here to see if you want to say goodnight to the children before I put them to bed?”

Damen is silent for so long that the girl actually looks up in concern.

“Ah,” Damen says. “The children. Yes, I- Why don’t you lead the way?”

She leads him to the royal nursery and Damen regrets not having a glass of wine before this. Or griva. Just something strong, because she opens the doors to reveal-

Three children.

The one that looks the oldest - although Damen can’t even begin to guess her age, less than five maybe? Old enough to walk, at least - looks up at his entrance and grins.

“ _Baba!_ ” she exclaims, running over to him and raising her arms.

Damen is pretty sure he isn’t breathing properly. “Hello,” he says, awkwardly. He picks her up because that seems to be what she’s gesturing for.

The Lady - Kyrina! Damen remembers suddenly - smiles. “Ione’s been insisting that she can’t go to bed until you kiss her goodnight.”

“Of course,” Damen says. He looks at the little girl in his arms. She’s smiling at him very widely, a mess of dark curls in front of her eyes. “Uh, goodnight,” he says.

“ _Baba,_ ” she says again. “You have to give me kisses!”

“Yes,” Damen replies. He kisses the top of her head. She giggles. Damen hands the child to Kyrina, who does a good job catching her.

“…I’ll just put her to bed then,” she says, slowly. Kyrina puts the little girl, Ione, into a small bed, covered with dark blue sheets. “Cassi and Leo are already asleep, obviously.”

Beside Ione’s bed is another bed, where another girl - presumably Cassi - is sleeping. All Damen can see of her is a bundle of golden ringlets poking out of a sheet. And in the corner of the room sleeps a little boy, and he is so tiny that he must be almost new. It’s a sweet picture - a roomful of sleeping Akielon children. It’s not something Damen has properly thought about having, but he thinks he could get used to it.

Kyrina hesitates. “Pardon me, Exalted. While you’re here: Lady Jokaste left many instructions for me to look after the children, but I wondered if you knew when she would be back? The children miss her.”

“They… miss Jokaste?”

“She is their mother.”

“Ah,” Damen says, faintly. “I have to go.”

-

“Nikandros,” Damen says, entering the cells. The torch in his hand sends the shadows in flickering directions that somehow manage to made the jail look worse than when it was pitch black moments earlier.

“Damen,” Nik says, from where he’s lying across the floor. He looks tired. “What can I do for you?”

Distracted by the grim surroundings, Damen says, “Are you sure you don’t want candles and a book?”

“You cannot be seen giving your brother’s killer favour,” Nik says patiently, sitting up.

“I am the only one visiting you. Who will know?”

“The slave you have bring them to me, and anyone who sees them do it.”

Damen remembers the fear and helplessness he had felt, his first time in Arles when Laurent has threatened to lock him away, alone and chained, for who knows how long. “I’ll bring it myself.”

Nikandros sighs, but he doesn’t refuse, so Damen knows he has won. “Surely you didn’t just come down here to check on me.”

“I should have brought wine,” Damen says, and then he sits down at the bars, so he face Nik and pretend this is a normal conversation. “I’ve discovered I have children.”

“Oh,” Nik looks shocked. “Forgive me, I didn’t even consider that they might not… Are the children different, in the other world?”

“Different in that they do not exist,” Damen replies.

“You have no heirs?”

“Not yet,” Damen says. “We were working on that, but there was a lot to consider.”

“Hmm,” Nik pauses thoughtfully for a moment. “Well, you have three children. Iona, Cassiopeia, and Leo. The girls are three and two; Leo was born almost four months ago.”

“Are they all with,” Damen winces, “Jokaste?”

“Yes.”

He really doesn’t want to ask this next question. “Is Jokaste my wife?”

Nik laughs. “You’ve gone pale.”

“I am not ready for all this,” Damen admits. “I don’t even know what I’m meant to do with children.”

Nikandros looks amused. “I think you said exactly that to me, when we found out Jokaste was having Iona.”

“At least I am consistent in something.”

“You’re not married to her,” Nik says. “But it is expected. Or it was, until you two fought and you sent her away to the Summer Palace.”

“Why did we fight?”

“She kept trying to make you see sense about Kastor. You told her that you had no intention of marrying someone who wasn’t loyal to your family. You thought she was lying because she didn’t like all the things Kastor tried to advise you on.”

Damen sighs. He can’t believe he ever thought this wouldn’t be entirely complicated. “Okay,” he says. He needs to think. “Priorities. I need to focus on you getting out of here, first.” Nik insists there has to be a trial - people can’t just get away with murdering members of the royal family - but if the trial goes wrong, Damen is prepared to handle the consequences of overruling it. “Then I’ll deal with Jokaste.” And after that - finally, when things are in order - then Damen is going to go to Vere, and find his husband.

At least he can take comfort in the fact that with Auguste alive - things are probably going much better for Laurent then they are for Damen.

-  
It’s an unpleasant surprise to see Adrastus, when the Keeper finds him. Damen wants to put his head through a table, but there was no plot to turn Damen into a slave in this world. Besides, his job will be rendered obsolete soon anyway, when slavery is outlawed. Re-outlawed.

Damen pours himself a glass of wine. “Did you need something, Adrastus?”

“Exalted,” he says, bowing respectfully. “Lykaios tells me you’ve sent her away. I wanted to offer you another slave, if she displeases you now. There’s one in particular that you might like - very sweet - his hair is blonde in the right light.”

Damen pauses, on the cusp of refusing. “What’s his name?”

“Erasmus,” Adrastus sounds pleased at the interest. “He’s only just finished his training, but he is very eager. Should I send him to you?”

“Yes,” Damen says.

-

Damen remembers Erasmus as he was the last time he saw him in Patras. Bright eyed and much bolder than a slave, he had also shown an unknown wit that had been both endearing and amusing. When the Erasmus of this world comes to Damen’s rooms, he presses his forehead to the floor in one of the most graceful movements that Damen has ever seen, and says nothing.

Years ago, Damen would have been proud to see such a perfect display of submission. He would have taken Erasmus to bed, and pulled him apart slowly until they were both satisfied. Now, he looks at Erasmus and just feels a pang of sadness - that this version of the boy hasn’t grown into himself, hasn’t developed a personality beyond the one forced upon him.

“You can rise,” Damen says.

Erasmus lifts his forehead slightly off the ground, but doesn’t make any attempt to get up. Damen holds back a sigh. Commands, he reminds himself. They used to come naturally to him.

“Come sit next to me,” he says this time, and Erasmus gets up and joins him on the couch. He doesn’t even attempt to make eye-contact. His bird-boned wrists are trembling slightly.

“I only wish to speak with you, Erasmus.”

“Yes, Exalted,” Erasmus says softly.

Damen resists frowning. He knows Erasmus will notice any signs of displeasure and blame himself. Instead, Damen focuses on keeping his voice even and gentle. “Do you know what slaves were attending my brother, before he died?”

Erasmus goes pale and actually looks up at Damen, a split second of eye-contact before he remembers himself and looks back down. “…yes, I know him.”

“What is his name?”

“Is…” Erasmus looks almost ready to faint. His chest is moving rapidly, “he…in trouble?”

“What?” Damen says. “No. No. I am sure he has done nothing wrong. I only need some information on my brother’s habits, and whether your friend noticed anything that might bring some light to Nikandros’s trial.”

“His name is Kallias,” Erasmus says, then, “Exalted. May I speak?”

“Yes, say whatever is on your mind.”

“Kallias is good. He did everything his master asked of him. He was honoured to be in Prince Kastor’s household. He isn’t– he’s good.”

“He won’t be punished for anything,” Damen reassures Erasmus. “All I want is to know the truth. Will you get him for me?”

Erasmus nods.

“Come back with him,” Damen says, “and you can stay while we talk.”

-

When Erasmus returns with his friend, Kallias reveals himself to be a lot bolder than the standard slave. He still moves perfectly, prostrates himself on the ground before Damen, but there’s a calculation about it - a certain confidence that is admittedly unsettling to see on a slave.

“Kallias,” Damen greets. “Come take a seat with me. You too, Erasmus. Did he tell you why I wanted to see you?”

“He did, Exalted,” Kallias says. He’s looks like Erasmus’s opposite - dark hair and straight shoulders. They make a pretty picture of contrasts next to one another.

“Is there anything you can tell me of your last days with Prince Kastor?” Damen asks. He doesn’t expect this to be easy. It’ll probably take a while to convince Kallias to say anything against Kastor - if he can be convinced at all - despite Kastor being dead. Royal slaves are perfectly trained.

“Yes,” Kallias says, boldly. “He was planning a coup against you.”

Oh. “Tell me more.”

-

The door to his chambers are unceremoniously thrown open that evening, and in stalks Jokaste. Damen’s first instinct is to look for his sword. He suppresses it.

“You’re a fool,” she says.

“You got here fast,” Damen replies.

“I was already on my way back, you didn’t need to send for me. After I heard what Nik had done-”

“Yes, I’m sure you were very shocked. How convenient that you were away when it all took place.”

“You sent me away!” Jokaste replies, furious, and Damen suddenly realises that to her this is a lover’s quarrel. “Now I’m back before you make another grievous error and actually let Nikandros go to his death for protecting you.”

The fact that Jokaste seems to genuinely care about this feels very wrong. Damen has never entertained the idea that she has ever cared for much more than herself. “We’re on the same page then,” Damen says. “I need whatever evidence you have against my brother. I may need you to speak at the trial.”

That surprises her. Her whole body seems to stop. Then, “You believe us now? That Kastor was plotting against you?”

“Yes,” Damen says. He doesn’t trust Jokaste. He doesn’t want to tell her about the cave or his past.

“Oh,” she says, and then the fire leaves her and she allows herself to gracefully fall to the chaise at the end of his bed. “Damen. I didn’t realise what Nik was going to do. I knew he was going to do something, he’s the one who made me agree to go the the Summer Palace after that fight we had, but…”

Damen sighs. He wonders if the version of him from this world would have actually cared to hear any of that. He mostly just wants her to testify and then disappear again. “Okay,” he settles for saying. “That doesn’t matter. We need to focus on getting Nikandros free for now.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “I have those letters I tried to show you, still. I might be able to find a Kyros or guard or someone willing to testify, as well.”

“I have Kastor’s slave, Kallias. He’s willing to speak up.”

“Good. That’s good.” She stands up. “I’m going to check on the children, and then I’ll get those documents and we can discuss our next move.”

“Okay,” Damen says, and then tries to immediately forget her mentioning the children. His children. That he had, with her. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

-

The worst (or best) thing is: the children are actually quite wonderful. Ione is an energetic and joyous child, forever laughing, and she even manages to coax a smile out of Damen more often than not. Cassi is a lot quieter than her sister, but that might just be because Ione has such a large personality. Cassi, Damen thinks, will get on well with Laurent, when she’s older. The thought pleases him. As for Leo - he’s much too young to do anything other than eat, cry, and then try to eat things that cannot be eaten and cry about that. He has a strong grip, though, and likes to cling onto Damen’s thumb with a shocking amount of might. Damen’s never thought too much on children, but it is impossible not to be fond of these ones.

Damen has taken to seeing them in the nursery every night before dinner - when they are all awake and making noise. Cassi and Ione like to climb all over him whenever he sits down with them.

One morning, Kyrina brings them all over to his rooms before Damen’s even out of bed. Apparently, once a week they have a family breakfast in his own quarters. The idea is oddly charming.

Cassi and Ione climb on top on his bed, screeching happily. “Can we stay here and eat?” Ione asks.

“Sure,” Damen says, already knowing the sheets are going to get ruined with food.

Kyrina stays and holds Leo, until Jokaste strolls in, takes the boy and dismisses her. She takes a look at Damen, and the girls who are currently rubbing grapes into his sheets and sighs. Then she climbs onto the bed with them.

“You’re spoiling them, lately,” she says, but she sounds pleased.

“I like spending time with them,” Damen tells her.

“Where’s Nik?” Cassi says, suddenly.

Damen frowns.

“You can see him in a couple of days, darling,” Jokaste replies, wiping the girl’s face.

-

“There is an issue with the trial,” Jokaste says, after breakfast has ended and the children are gone again.

“What is it?”

“We have letters and a slave to prove Kastor’s treachery,” she says, “but this is not a trial to prove that. It is a matter of proving Nikandros didn’t just murder a Prince in cold blood.”

“But Kastor was a traitor. Nik did the right thing.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “But it will look bad if you let him get away with it. We can’t just openly murder everyone we suspect of treason. People will think of Nikandros as your feral dog and they won’t be happy that you’re letting him loose.”

“Okay,” Damen says. “So what do you suggest?”

“You won’t like it.”

“I don’t like a lot of things that you say. I still have to hear them.”

“Cheeky,” she says, dryly. “We need to convince Nikandros to lie when he is on trial. He needs to say that he found out Kastor’s plans and Kastor attacked him. Nikandros acted in self defence.”

“But he didn’t,” Damen says. Nikandros had simply gone to Kastor’s rooms and stabbed him.

“I know,” Jokaste replies. “But we need him to say he did.” 

“You want him to lie? On trial?”

“Yes.”

“He’ll never do that.”

“That’s why you need to ask him to. Damen, he’ll do anything for you. He already has. Tell him that you need him, and the children miss him. Convince him. He’ll say yes.”

-

“No,” Nikandros says. “That is dishonourable.”

Damen sighs. “It is. I still want you to do it.”

“I will not lie. I killed him, let them punish me. The only person in the kingdom who doesn’t want to see me dead is you.”

“Well, I am King, so my opinion matters more than theirs.”

Nikandros is clearly torn. Damen needs to convince him. What would Laurent do?

“Nikandros,” Damen says. “You are my closest friend and most trusted advisor. You are the only man in this capital that I know is committed to this Kingdom. I need you. I know it is wrong to ask this of you, but I’m asking you anyway.”

“Damianos,” Nik pleads. “Don’t.”

He knows this is something he should never ask of Nik, and years ago perhaps he would have been proud of his friend’s honour. But then Damen thinks of taking a fort in costume, and playacting a cloth merchant, and all other sorts of trickery that he wouldn’t have considered years ago. And then he thinks of the slaves, and their suffering. Damen believes in honour, yes, but he does not believe in it when it is used as an excuse to do the wrong thing. Nikandros will be executed for being loyal if he does not lie. There is no honour in that. Damen can accept it.

“Please,” Damen says, because a King should never have to say please.

-

The trial, in the end, is more of a show than anything. Damen is King and so it is only his ruling that actually matters. But the people have stakes in things like this, especially when it comes to something as high profile as a Prince being murdered, and so the performance must play out. Laurent would be better at this than Damen is. But this is Akielos, he reminds himself, not New Artes, and all they have to do is present their arguments and the people will accept it.

Kallias very bravely allows himself to be questioned, and admits that he had feared for his own - and his fellow slaves’ - life if he did anything. Damen makes a note to bring this up when he’s outlawing slavery again.

Jokaste presents her letters - all vague correspondence from Kastor to other Kyros and people of high birth that implicates a lot of them. Damen doubts any of them will be brave enough to argue against Nikandros going free after that. More likely, they’ll return to their provinces and lick their wounds.

Then comes Nikandros, to make his case.

He looks only at Damen when he speaks. Damen cannot look away. He doesn’t know what Nik will choose to do in the end - and he has to push down the fear that his friend will throw his life away for some silly notion.

Then Nikandros takes a deep breath and, with a shocking lack of emotion says, “Yes, he attacked me,” and Damen’s heart can slow down again.

-  
Nikandros spends a long time in the baths, but he comes back to Damen’s quarters afterwards and sits with him on the balcony lounge. Damen hasn’t been to Ios since the new capital was built, and he finds it nice to sit out here with his closest friend and look out at their home and the stars.

Nik pours them each a cup of wine, and they drink together. “Thank you,” Nik says. “I was willing to die for what I did, but I didn’t relish the thought.”

“You have always been my most loyal friend,” Damen says.

Nik smiles. There’s something softer about him like this. His hair is in his eyes and despite all that he’s just gone through he looks happy. Unguarded. “Am I the same then? In the other world.”

“Your character is true in every realm, I’d say.”

“You’re different,” Nik says. “But you’re still the same. I can still tell it’s you. You just seem more… serious.”

“I’d believe that,” Damen says. He sips his wine thoughtfully. “Do you live in Ios or Delpha?”

Nik shakes his head. “Is Delpha not Veretian territory for you?”

Damen says, “It’s complicated. But you looked after Delpha for some time and then, after I was crowned, I gave you Ios.”

“Oh,” Nik says, softly. And then he’s taking both of their cups and setting them down. Nik kneels up on the lounge so that he can face Damen. “I’m glad that not everything has changed, then.”

And then, quicker than Damen can comprehend the actions, Nikandros raises his hands to take Damen’s face and – kisses him. Damen is caught so off guard that he doesn’t react at all. Nik’s eyes are closed and he presses his lips against Damen’s in such a sweet gesture of affection that Damen feels a pang of sorrow for what he is going to have to do to Nikandros’ heart.

Damen had only ever kissed Nikandros once in his life prior to this - and he had been nineteen and felt like they were on the cusp of something with potential, but then Marlas had happened and Nik had stayed in Delpha while Damen returned to Ios and they had never discussed it since. Except. Except, if they never won Delpha in this world, then Nik had come back to Ios with Damen, they would have-

Nikandros pulls back, slowly at first, and then he sits back, still kneeling but so that they are no longer touching. A very complicated expressed crosses his face, and then he says, with barely repressed hurt, “Or maybe things have changed, after all.”

“We were lovers?” Damen asks.

Nik’s lips are twitching downward. “Yes, for quite some time. We were not for you?”

“No,” Damen says. “I am married. Monogamously.”

Nik hesitates. His brow is furrowed. “…Jokaste?”

“Laurent of Vere,” Damen replies, because he owes Nikandros honesty at the very least. “He was in the cave with me. I think we are in this world because he wished for his brother to be alive.”

“And you followed him here?”

“Yes.”

Nik picks up his cup and takes a long sip of wine. He won’t look back at Damen, staring out at the view instead.

Damen swallows. “How long have we…?”

Nik clears his throat. “Since Marlas,” he says, softly. “Seven years.”

“That is…” A long time. Damen doesn’t know what to say. How can he tell Nikandros to throw away a relationship that - had Damen not come here - he wouldn’t have had to lose. Years of love and intimacy. “I’m sorry,” Damen says. “We’ve never– I’ve never…with you.”

“I think,” Nikandros says, with a precision to the words that makes Damen’s heart clench. “It would have been kinder for you to leave me in the cells.”

“Nikandros,” Damen says.

“Damianos, I have killed for you,” Nik turns on him then, passionate. “I have lied for you, I have given you my life. I would cut out my own heart and lay it at your feet if you asked. Now only for you to turn me away for some Veretian boy-Prince.”

“Nikandros,” Damen repeats. He doesn’t know what to say. He is not ready for this conversation - he doesn’t think he ever will be.

“Stop.” Nikandros is breathing in a way that makes it obvious he’s holding back emotions. Damen thinks of the Nikandros from his world - courting treason for a pin; ripping off Damen’s chiton to stare at his scars in horror; challenging Laurent - a foreign Prince! - to a duel for Damen’s honour. Perhaps, Damen thinks, he has always been blind.

“Don’t worry,” Nikandros says, when he seems to have gained some control of himself. He still won’t look at Damen. “You are my King. I will stay loyal to you no matter my personal feelings. I–” he hesitates and Damen thinks, fears, that he will say he loves him, but then Nikandros closes his eyes and continues with: “I have to go.”

He leaves. Damen does not try to stop him.

-

Damen cannot sleep after that, so he decides to go through Kastor’s letters. It’s stupid, Damen has never even met this version of his brother and the letters are all encouraging treason, but it’s something tangible about his brother that he can experience. Kastor’s own thoughts and words put onto paper.

It is when Damen finishes the fourth letter that he begins to feel truly uneasy. He needs to talk this through, and Laurent isn’t here. Damen gets halfway to Nikandros’ quarters, before he realises that that his quarters are where Hypermenestra used to live and remembers everything that has happened tonight and he stops. At a loss.

Who else can he talk to? He is without his husband, and unable to see his closest friend. Damen is a social person, he does not cope well with loneliness and he has spent the past four years with Laurent by his side. Now he is in this palace with no one who actually knows him as he is and with a desperate need for someone to talk to.

He changes directions, and heads down a different hall.

Jokaste, it turns out, decided against staying in Damen’s mother’s old quarters - as would be expected of the mother of his heirs - and instead resides in the rooms next to the nursery. It’s a nice thought.

She opens the door, already dressed for bed. It’s when she’s at her plainest - no make up, hair plaited neatly down her back and a loose white bed-shirt. She looks tired. It’s more endearing than when she’s all proper and polished. She gives him a rueful expression.

“Have you forgiven me then? I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse tonight’s visit, my bed already has another man in it.” She opens the door a little wider, and Damen can see the sweetly small sleeping form of his son on the bed.

“Ah,” Damen says. The baby looks so small in such a big bed. It does something to Damen’s heart.

“I know what you’re going to say,” she continues, “but you cannot get mad at me. You made me go away for all that time so I’m allowed a little coddling to make up for it.”

“I’m not mad,” Damen replies. “It’s nice.” It’s nice that she cares about their children. As much as Damen wouldn’t choose to have a family with Jokaste, he likes that she loves them. He wouldn’t wish any child to grow up motherless. It is a lonely thing. “I wanted to talk to you, actually. I can be quiet about it.”

“Let’s sit down then.” She lets him into the room and they sit together on the couch. “What is it?”

“Have I been a… bad King?”

“What?” Jokaste says, clearly shocked.

“I’ve been reading Kastor’s letters. And in them all I can see his ideas and his desires for ruling Akielos and they are all… good.”

Her brow furrows. “You already knew all his ideas. You disagreed with them.”

“I wanted everything to stay the same?”

“You’re having regrets now?” Jokaste asks. “Damen, you’ve been telling us for years: Akielos prospered under Theomedes’s rule. There’s no need to change things.”

“So I am exactly like my father?”

“You’ve never said that like it’s a bad thing before.”

“And do you agree? That things shouldn’t change. Did my father do everything right?”

Jokaste sighs. “I don’t know what you want me to say right now. I don’t want to fight.”

“Neither do I. I just want you to tell me what your opinion is. I won’t punish you for having an opinion.”

Jokaste leans forward in her seat to pour herself a glass of wine. “Damen, you don’t change easily. You were quite young when your father died, and I know it left you with a lot of responsibility and a desire to make him proud. I don’t fault you for that. But…”

“Yes?”

“Change happens whether we want it to or not. Sometimes it is better to let it happen - to be at the front of it - than it is to resist.”

“I agree,” Damen says.

She gives him a disbelieving look. “Just like that?”

“No,” Damen replies and then, he might as well, “Do you know of that myth, the one of the travelling cave?”

“The one that sends you to a world where your greatest desire becomes reality?” she asks, and then, realisation dawning. “Oh no.”

“Yes,” Damen says. “I have been guessing at what to do for a while now, and I keep getting blindsided.”

“You are not from here?” she clarifies.

“You and I are not together, and Nikandros and I were never together. I am married to Laurent of Vere, and everything is different. I think I’ve changed a lot from the man you knew.”

“That is,” Jokaste looks lost and it is a very rare expression to see on her, “a lot.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re in love with me too,” Damen says, weakly.

“No,” Jokaste replies and she looks sad. “That’s why the three of us worked so well. Nikandros gave you all his love, and I gave you a steady hand and children. I don’t have the heart to love people like you do, I discovered that from being with you.”

“Flattering,” Damen replies.

She smiles. “No, it is. You’re so wonderful, Damen, that if I were capable of romantic love, I would be smitten with you. Instead I consider you like family.”

“So it was just the three of us?”

“Well, and Lykaios and sometimes Kyrina, and whoever else took your fancy each week. But yes. Nikandros and I are the ones who stayed. We’re the ones who know you. Knew you. I’m going to miss that.”

“You’re taking this very well.”

Jokaste shrugs. “You’ve been different since I came back. I thought perhaps you were going to leave me. Or make me leave. I’m relieved.”

“Nikandros is upset,” Damen says, because as terrible as it is - Jokaste seems to be the only person he has right now that he can talk to about this.

“Of course he is,” she replies. “He’s had his entire life mapped out since he was twenty-one at Marlas and you two decided to start fucking. He’s had years of being the love of your life. He’s helped us raise our children; he loves them like they’re his own blood. And now you’ve told him you don’t want that anymore.”

“I know,” Damen replies. He doesn’t know what else to say. He’s never knowingly hurt someone so dear to him like this before.

“Damen,” Jokaste continues. “He loves you. He loves everything about you. I know you have that prince of yours now but… Nik, he isn’t asking for monogamy. He never has. Can’t you just love them both?”

“In my world,” Damen says, “you took Kastor’s side. You had his son.”

The shocked look Jokaste sends him has enough disgust in it that Damen feels somewhat mollified.

“What an awful place,” she says.

Damen laughs weakly. “Things were very different for me there. Laurent and I went through a lot together and… honestly, I can’t imagine wanting someone like I want him. He is singular. It wouldn’t be fair to Nikandros, to let him stand next to that.”

Jokaste purses her lips, but ends up nodding. “Okay,” she says. “Well, you still need to talk to Nik. I know you have a hard time talking about your feelings sometimes, but he deserves a conversation about your future. Before you bring your prince back.”

Damen frowns. “I’m not positive Laurent will want to come back here,” he admits. “Not like it was.”

“If you are both so in love, then he will.”

“I don’t want to separate him from his brother again.”

She laughs. “I don’t think that will be a problem. Prince Laurent is notoriously outspoken against King Auguste. I’m surprised no one has hung him yet.”

“No,” Damen replies. “That can’t be true?”

“It really is,” Jokaste says. “Vere is going to be very unstable. You were waiting for either a coup or civil war so that we could invade.”

Damen stands up. “I must go to Vere.”

-  
After Jokaste convinces Damen that he may be doing more harm than good by dashing into Vere without a welcome, (and apparently he is welcome to visit Arles in a couple of weeks, which is what actually convinces him) Damen goes back to his rooms and tries to sleep.

Breakfast the next day is weird, because it is Jokaste and Kyrina and the children all there, but they leave the chair to Damen’s right free as if by nature. The empty chair is a double wound - it is obviously Nikandros’ place in this world, but it’s also where Damen wants to see Laurent.

Damen knows he must talk to Nikandros - and that he must do it before he goes to Arles - but it’s a difficult thing to force himself to do. He wishes that he could solve all his problems with a sword but, as Laurent has enforced upon him for the last four years, some things must be spoken of.

It would help if Nikandros was not nowhere to be found.

It takes three days for Damen to get to him, and even then, it’s by accident. He opens the door to the nursery that afternoon, and there he is.

Nikandros is sitting on a pile of pillows, with Cassi in his lap. Ione is sitting in front of them, telling them a nonsensical story while Nikandros listens in with his full attention. He’s smiling at her adoringly. Kyrina must be feeding Leo somewhere, as neither of them are in sight.

Ione is the first to notice Damen. She spots him and throws her hands up, sweetly surprised. “ _Baba_!”

“Ione!” Damen says, copying her excited tone.

Nikandros looks to him and for a short moment, a bright smile transforms his face at the sight of Damen, and then he seems to catch himself and the expression drops. Nik turns his head away to press a kiss to the crown of Cassi’s head. “Hop up, darling,” he says to her, helping her out of his lap.

“Nik is here!” Ione tells Damen.

“Is he?” Damen says. “Thank you for telling me.”

Nik is standing up, and then he bends over to pick Cassi up. “We can take them into the gardens,” he suggests. “So they can play while we talk.”

Damen nods and offers Ione his hand. “Do you want to go to the gardens?” he asks her.

“Yes!”

Damen is beginning to think everything she says is an exclamation. She is seemingly in a constant state of joy. They all walk to the gardens together, Nik talking quietly to Cassi the whole time, possibly so that he and Damen aren’t forced to interact right in front of the children.

When they get to the gardens, Nik talks the girls into finding their favourite flower in the gardens, and they both toddle off to survey all the bushes. Nikandros and Damen watch them for a moment, before Nikandros squares his shoulders.

“Damen,” he says. “I am trying. But it’s been three days. It’s going to take time for me to… overcome this.”

Damen sighs. “I don’t expect you to suddenly be okay with all that’s happened. But I also don’t want you to force yourself away from us, if it’s not what you want. We left a seat for you at breakfast.”

“I’m sure your Veretian lover will be filling that spot soon enough,” Nikandros says, then he clenches his jaw. “I shouldn’t have said that. I apologise.”

“It’s okay,” Damen replies, “I deserve that.”

“You really don’t,” Nik says. “You’re not… you don’t know what it was like. What we had together. I can’t fairly be mad at you for not wanting me.”

“Nothing about this is fair,” Damen replies. “And I am the cause of your hurt. I didn’t even think of how things would be different here.”

“I’m in love with you,” Nikandros says, “Or who you were, I suppose. And I love the children, and Jokaste. The family that we’ve built is my whole life. My whole reason for… everything I do, really. It scares me to think of how all that is going to change now.”

“Have breakfast with us tomorrow,” Damen says, “please. That doesn’t have to change. I’m not going to push you away from the children. You are still a part of the family, it’s just…”

“Going to include Prince Laurent of Vere,” Nik finishes for him.

“That is something I won’t compromise on,” Damen tells him gently.

Nikandros, struck with a sudden passion, advances on Damen then. He pushes him until Damen’s back hits the solid trunk of a tree and then Nik steps right into Damen’s space. He puts one hand on Damen’s cheek, the other clutching his chiton, and then buries his face into Damen’s shoulder. Damen lets him.

Very hesitantly, Damen sits his hands on Nikandros’ hips. Nikandros breathes against Damen’s shoulder, his whole body tense.

“I’m sorry,” Damen says.

“I’m going to miss this,” Nik replies, voice muffled. “I just need a moment.”

“As long as you need,” Damen promises.

-

Nikandros does end up coming to breakfast the next morning, and every morning after that, and it is both wonderful and painfully awkward. Jokaste looks at them both with a mix of concern and exasperation and deflects any awkward questions the girl’s ask about why Nik and _Baba_ are being so weird.

“I want to take Ione to Arles,” Damen says, the morning before he is set to leave.

“Fine,” Jokaste replies. “I suppose we should introduce Prince Laurent to the children if he’s going to come back here.”

Damen nods. He wasn’t asking permission.

Nikandros sighs. “I’ll join you as well, then.”

“No,” Damen says, in his surprise.

“Yes,” Nikandros insists. “Leo and Cassi are too young to go with you, so Kyrina must stay and you can’t bring Jokaste without insulting delicate Veretian sensibilities. So, you’re going to take your bastard daughter to a pit of vipers, where you’re going to have to leave her in someone else’s care so you can reunite with your– prince, and you don’t want me there?”

Damen pauses. “Alright,” he says. “You can come too.”

-

The next morning, Damen, Nikandros, Ione, and the rest of the chosen retinue load themselves onto the ship to take them to Arles.

Damen kisses Leo and Cassi on their cheeks, and hugs them goodbye. He’s genuinely going to miss them while he’s in Arles. Jokaste hugs him and tells him to take care - and also warns him that not a hair on her firstborn’s head is to so much as be ruffled - and then they have gone. 

Damen stands at the bough of their ship and looks out at the ocean. He doesn’t know what to expect in Arles, or any of the challenges that will face him next, but he does know one thing: Laurent will be there. Damen misses him desperately; a piece of his heart is waiting for him in Arles, and it will not beat properly until he sees it.

He looks out at the sea, and despite everything, Damen smiles.

-


	4. Act III: United

“Exalted,” Laurent calls out. “Welcome to Arles.”

Damen is still grinning. He looks like an idiot. Laurent wants to kiss him. “Prince Laurent,” Damen replies, “you are even more beautiful than the rumours.”

“Don’t fight him,” Lazar whispers to Laurent in an aside.

Laurent smiles and gives Damen an obvious once over. “Ah, well, the rumours I heard of you appear to be exaggerated. I thought you’d be bigger.”

“I can assure you that I am everywhere in proportion.” Damen replies.

“Shall we?” Laurent says, gesturing to the city.

“Lead the way,” Damen answers.

Damen manoeuvres his horse so that they can ride side by side, Lazar and the rest of the Akielons falling behind.

“Your hair is long,” Damen says, tilting his head slightly to get a view of the braid running down Laurent’s head.

“I thought you might like it,” Laurent smiles. “It is rumoured that you are fond of blonds.”

“Have you been keeping track to rumours of me, then? I’m flattered.”

“I make it my business to know everything,” Laurent replies. “Don’t be so conceited.”

At that, Damen laughs. “I have missed you,” he says, and Laurent feels warm all over at the pure fondness in his voice.

“As have I,” Laurent replies. “We have a lot to discuss.”

“Yes,” Damen agrees. “Have you looked anything up about the state of Akielos?”

“No,” Laurent frowns. “I heard Kastor was dead. I am sorry for that. I almost lost hope that you had also come to this world when I heard that. After that I was worried I would find more confirmation that it wasn’t you if I researched further.”

“Ah,” Damen replies. “That is also something we had to discuss later. But first! Before you introduce me to your brother,” - Laurent can’t help but grin at that - “I thought I’d tell you that there is another royal here. I don’t want to blindside you.”

Laurent looks briefly behind himself. “Who…?”

He spots her, sitting in front of Nikandros in the saddle, just as Damen says, “It seems I have children now.”

“She is your…?”

“Daughter, yes. Ione. She is three and very energetic.”

Laurent looks back at Damen. He could hear the pride in his husband’s voice. “I am happy for you.”

“Good,” Damen replies. “You’re going to have to charm her. She has very discerning taste.”

They run out of time to talk more as they finally make it to the palace gates, and then it’s a matter of handing over horses, and moving to the front steps of the Palace, where King Auguste is waiting.

“Our brother of Akielos,” Auguste says, in accented Akielon.

Damen grins, and clasps Auguste’s hand. “Our brother of Vere,” he replies. “It is good to see you again.”

Auguste looks a little startled by how passionately Damen says it, but he covers it well. “Yes, it has been some time.”

“Let me introduce you to my daughter,” Damen continues, and Nikandros steps forward with the child. “Princess Ione.”

The little girl does an impressive job of curtsying. Laurent can see the resemblance of Damen in her - dimpled cheeks and dark curls. Auguste greets the princess, and then bids servants to escort Damen and his contingent to their rooms, so they can rest before dinner. The real politics will start tomorrow.

-

Laurent wants to grin through the entirety of dinner. He sits to his brother’s left, and is Damen to the King’s right so that they face each other. He and Damen each have one foot discreetly set forward under the table, a constant point of touching.

Auguste is nodding at Damen. “Should we duel later? I’d be interested in seeing some Akielon techniques.”

Damen looks at Laurent briefly, then he smiles at Auguste. “I thought the point of our truce was that we could save face and pretend each of us was the better fighter.”

Auguste laughs. “Well said,” he says. “I must say, I’m relieved that you seem quite comfortable here. Most visitors can be a little overwhelmed in Arles.”

“You run a fine kingdom,” Damen says. “I knew a little about what to expect.”

Laurent raises his outstretched leg, trails his toes along Damen’s calf. He enjoys watching the two most important men in his life bond; he does not enjoy being ignored.

Damen tries to fight his grin down, and Laurent hides his own expression behind a cup.

-

“What do you think?” Laurent asks, after dinner when he’s dragged Damen out to the gardens under the pretence of discussing policies. There’s a lot for them to discuss, but for now Laurent wants to forget all of that and focus on this: finally seeing Damen again after all this time. 

“He has a way about him, doesn’t he?” says Damen, “I understand why you adore him.”

“If you take a fancy to my brother, I’ll be very upset.”

Damen smiles, and turns so that he can back Laurent against a tree. This part of the gardens is dark and there’s no one around to see. “You did used to say that you thought we’d get along.”

“I also said you two would leave me in the dust,” Laurent says. “Stop. It’s too dreadful to think about.”

“I’ll turn your mind to nicer things then,” Damen says. His arms are braced on either side of Laurent’s head. Laurent reaches for his waist automatically. Damen kisses him.

Laurent tilts his head up, obliging. He opens his mouth. Even the years of familiarity haven’t stopped this from feeling exquisite. Every moment that he spends in Damen’s embrace is an untold luxury.

Damen pulls back to kiss across Laurent’s jaw. “I missed you,” he says.

“Were you pining?”

“Yes,” Damen says, unashamedly honest in that way that always makes Laurent warm. He rests his forehead against the crook of Laurent’s neck. Laurent’s arms tighten around his waist.

Laurent closes his eyes. “It’s been disconcerting. Not having you by my side.”

“You are my heart,” Damen says. “I would not have survived much longer without you.”

He lifts his head and kisses Laurent again. Their mouths move together softly and slowly, reacquainting themselves. Laurent is beginning to seriously consider whether he can convince Damen to fuck him in the gardens like this. He runs a hand up over Damen’s chest and then down lower. Damen pulls back.

“I had a plan,” he says, then corrects himself: “I have a plan.”

“Do you think the court will notice,” Laurent replies, hand brushing the top of Damen’s thigh, “if I go back with dirty knees?”

Damen swallows. “We’ve only just met.”

“This is Arles,” Laurent says. “And I’m the second son. It hardly matters if I’m a slut.”

Damen falls forward, as if powerless to do anything but claim Laurent’s lips again. “Are you?” he murmurs between kisses.

“Only for you,” Laurent whispers back, slipping his hand under Damen’s chiton.

“We shouldn’t,” Damen says. “I wanted to court you properly this time.”

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about, while we’ve been apart?”

Damen’s breath is heavy. “Always,” he says. “You’re always on my mind.”

“Always?” Laurent says, gasping when Damen bites down on his collarbone.

“When I wake up, it is to thoughts of your sweet smile,” he says, “when I retire, it is with the love of your sharp mind. Even when I sleep, I have not had enough. I beg my mind to let me dream of you.”

“Court me tomorrow,” Laurent breathes. Damen is the one dropping to his knees at that. “Tonight, I need you,”

-

By the time they get back inside, the banquet is in its final hours. Auguste is happily drinking with a group of Veretians and Akielons alike. Candles have burnt out and been replaced. Lazar is leaning insolently against the door, watching them reenter.

“Your Highness,” he calls out.

Laurent turns.

Lazar gestures to the back of his own head. “There is bark in your hair.” He’s grinning.

-  
“There’s a scar on your thigh,” Laurent says, when the kingdom is sleeping that night and he’s managed to sneak into Damen’s chambers.

“Nik says it’s from a Vaskian,” he’s running his hands through Laurent’s hair, detangling it. “Apparently she was very impressed when I still managed to best her.”

“Stop making me jealous,” Laurent laughs. He can’t help it. It is so wonderful to see Damen again, and to know it’s him, and that they both love each other equally and unconditionally. It’s nice to have something remain constant after all that’s happened. “So Nikandros knows then?”

Damen winces. “Yes,” he says. “He knows everything.”

“I’m going to have to befriend him again in this world. We were friends in the last,” Laurent says. Damen stays silent. “He taught me to wrestle,” Laurent insists.

“My love,” Damen says, “I’m afraid wanting to throw you around a bit and friendship are two different things.” Damen looks good like this, sitting in bed with tousled hair, only sheets to cover him. It is a sight that Laurent has gone too long without.

Laurent laughs. “I can be charismatic,” he says.

Damen takes a breath. “Nikandros is in love with me.”

“Some things don’t change then,” Laurent says.

Damen looks at him. “What?”

“Really?” Laurent asks. He considers Damen for a long moment. Then, scolding, “Damianos. I thought you knew. I thought you just didn’t want to talk about it.”

“You knew?”

Laurent shakes his head. “You’re hopeless.”

“It’s so complicated now,” Damen replies.

“You are both together then, in this world?”

Damen nods. “I told him that you and I are monogamous.”

“Oh,” Laurent replies.

Damen sits up, alarmed. “Are we not?”

“Calm down,” Laurent says. “You know you’re the only one for me. Rather, you’ve always been quite free with your affections. I only insisted on our monogamy because it would have been disrespectful for you to have another lover when we were equals.”

“We still are equals.”

“I know; I’m very proud of you for being okay with me being a second son,” Laurent says patiently. “But I meant in the eyes of our subjects. If you’d had a lover, then I would have had to also or it would have undermined me as a co-ruler. You’re the only man I want in my bed, but I won’t force you to act the same now.”

“You want me to have a mistress?”

“No,” Laurent frowns. “Or yes. I’m saying I don’t mind either way. I know you love me, as I love you. I might get jealous sometimes, but we can survive that.” Laurent sighs and then adds, “I feel guilty.”

“What do you have to feel guilty for?”

“I want to marry you,” Laurent replies, taking Damen’s hand. “Again. I want us to grow old together, happy and in love. But I can’t just leave Auguste, like this. He has no other family yet, and even if he did I… would loathe to be apart from him.”

“I don’t want to force you two apart,” Damen admits. “What does this mean for us?”

“I’d come back to Ios, to be your husband, if you still want that. But I’d have to visit Arles, preferably for at least a quarter of every year.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot?” His expression is neutral. Laurent doesn’t know what he’s thinking and this is worrying.

“Yes,” Laurent agrees. “I am being selfish.”

“You’re being loving,” Damen rebukes him. “I won’t fault you for caring for someone other than me.”

“Good,” Laurent says, and then, pointedly: “It is the same for me with you.”

Damen frowns. “I don’t need a mistress.”

“I’m not telling you to take a mistress. Only that I know you care for Nikandros, and he loves you, and if you were to find yourself wanting to return his affections - I won’t fault you for it. You don’t have to decide whether you want this now, I just want you to know it’s a possibility for you.”

Damen still looks unnerved by the prospect. “You wanting to spend time with your brother is different than me bedding someone else.”

“Then don’t,” Laurent says, “if you don’t want to.”

“Okay.”

“But if you do want to-”

“Stop!” Damen says. He pushes his curls out of his eyes so that he can hit Laurent with the full brunt of his earnest gaze. “You told me earlier that you didn’t think it would be me in this world – that you thought I’d wish for Kastor back, but… when I was in that cave, Laurent, I looked at the back of your head and I only had one desire: that wherever you went, I was able to follow.”

Laurent opens his mouth and then closes it again. Sometimes, he is foolishly shocked by the magnitude of emotion that Damianos carries for him. It is a heady thing, to have this much love given and received in return. “So,” Laurent says, and he forces his tone to be light so that he doesn’t spend the rest of the night weeping over their shared love. “…you don’t want the pets I was going to invite in for an orgy, then?”

Damen laughs. “I cannot bear all this conversation when I have only just gotten you back. Let me enjoy you before I remember how vexing your words can be.”

Laurent makes them both lie back down. “You’re right. There’s still time left of the night and I am not yet satisfied with your prowess. I heard you once spent seven hours straight on bedplay with a fighter. Is it all hearsay?”

Damen falls back in their easy teasing with a smile. “After that, I beat the record on my wedding night,” he replies. “Would you like a repeat?”

They have much to discuss even still, Laurent knows, and there are plans to be made. But he is willing to allow himself the luxury of tonight. Tomorrow, he will sneak out of Damen’s room before anyone can catch him, and they can find the time to deal with all of their issues. For now, it is hard to think of much more than Damen’s lips against his.

-

It is lucky that Laurent makes it back to his quarters not much after dawn, as he gets an early morning visitor.

“Laurent,” Auguste says, coming into his rooms. He automatically presses a kiss to Laurent’s forehead and Laurent smiles at the unconscious gesture.

“How are you?” Laurent asks.

“Well,” Auguste replies. He looks at Laurent awkwardly for a moment, before he continues. “I think the Barbarian King is going to attempt to court you. Please be tactful when you refuse his advances.”

Laurent resists the urge to smile. “What makes you say that?”

“Don’t be coy. He barely took his eyes off of you last night. And he looked much too pleased to discuss politics with you in the garden. Let’s not make this an incident between the kingdoms.”

“What if I don’t want to refuse his advances?”

Auguste laughs as if Laurent has told a joke and bumps their shoulders. “Yes, I know, you’re very unpredictable. Just keep in mind that we can hardly afford a war with Akielos at this point in time. Now it’s my turn to go play nice with the savages. Wish me luck and I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Good luck,” Laurent says, blankly, after Auguste has already closed the door behind him.

This may be a problem.

-  
While Auguste and Damen are having their morning meeting that Laurent apparently isn’t invited to, he thinks about how to handle the situation. Of course, Auguste is going to have a bias against Akielons, Laurent realises now that he should have started working on that earlier.

Maybe he can stage some kind of situation that shows Damen in a good light? No, that’s probably unnecessary. Damen won’t like that kind of deceit, and also he tends to just naturally show himself as a wonderful, good hearted person. Laurent sighs and lies back against his chaise and eats grapes.

He feels lazy and indulgent like this, locked out of the meeting, with nothing better to do than languish about and think about his lover. Maybe he’ll insist he be let into the meeting after lunch. He does have actual politics to discuss with Damen. And Damen will be lovely and accommodating and want what’s best for both countries, and Auguste will see that they’re a good match.

Or he could just let Damen carry out his foolish courting fantasy and let their love look as if it’s growing organically. Surely Auguste won’t deny Laurent a true love match just based on centuries old prejudice? Or maybe he will. It’s hard to predict movements when he doesn’t know Auguste well enough in this lifetime.

Laurent waits until the meeting is let out for lunch, everyone retreating to their own chambers to think about what has passed, and then he goes to Damen’s rooms.

Pallas is guarding the door, and he lets Laurent in without comment, so Damen must have informed him to.

“Ah,” Damen says, smiling. “There you are. My morning was entirely too tedious without you. Please tell me you’ll be joining us after lunch.”

“Yes,” Laurent says. And then, “I think Auguste is going to be a problem.”

Damen is immediately concerned, and Laurent knows it is because Damen has never heard him refer to Auguste as anything less than wonderful. Laurent sighs and sits on the lounge next to Damen. “What’s happened?” Damen asked. “He seemed fine this morning.”

“He noticed your joy in seeing me, and has instructed me to reject your attentions.”

Damen frowns. “Why?”

“There are dozens of possible reasons,” Laurent lies his head back against the edge of the couch. He is tired. All he longs for is a period in his life when things can be simple. Maybe he’ll try to find the cave again and wish they were merchants. “It seems to be prejudice, at the point. Our countries have been enemies for a very long time until recently.”

Damen nods slowly. “Alright. I’ll talk to him later and tell him my intentions with you then.”

“That…won’t actually solve anything. As much as I appreciate your ill-timed desires to proclaim your love for me.”

Damen laughs, and leans against Laurent so that their sides are pressing together. He takes his hands. “I mean that I’ll do things properly. I’ll ask his permission to court you and make it clear that I’ll stop if you wish it. He’ll relax when he realises I have pure intentions.”

“You spent a majority of last night fucking me, your intentions are hardly pure.”

Damen laughs harder this time and kisses Laurent while he’s still smiling. “Okay,” he amends. “Mostly pure. We’ll do things right and he’ll come around eventually. I can be very charming.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Laurent replies. “I’m going to sneak into your rooms after dinner again tonight. I still need to tell about all that’s happened.”

“Don’t worry about sneaking past my guards,” Damen replies. “I told them to let you in and not to gossip about it.”

Laurent smiles. “I wish controlling Veretians was that easy.”

-

The meeting that afternoon lasts less than an hour after everyone realises that the proposal that Laurent has put forth is essentially identical to the one Damen has. The rest of the council room holds an aura of shock that both sides managed to come to a genuinely fair, mutual agreement.

“It’s good,” Auguste says, when everyone but he and Laurent have cleared the room.

“It’ll benefit both countries greatly,” Laurent agrees.

Auguste puts the papers down and sighs. “At least this means they can leave sooner. I’m tired of seeing so much skin on display.”

Laurent laughs. “I don’t know, I’m rather enjoying the view.”

Auguste blinks. “Whenever you say dreadful things like that, I can feel myself age.”

“Yes, I can see the crows feet appearing.”

Auguste grabs Laurent and ruffles his hair. “Take that back!” he cries, and then they’re both laughing together.

-

When Laurent comes into Damen’s rooms that night, Damen greets him by pushing him up against the wall and kissing him deeply.

“Hello,” Laurent says.

“I have bad news,” Damen replies, against his mouth.

“Is the kissing to soften the blow?”

“No. I just missed you.”

Laurent lets the next round of kissing go on for quite a while until the curiosity overwhelms him enough to pull back. “The bad news?” he prompts.

“Oh,” Damen says. He looks nervous.

Laurent dramatically lets his head fall back against the door. “You’re leaving me for Nikandros after all!” he declaims.

“No,” Damen says. Laurent’s attempt to lighten things up clearly didn’t work. He reminds himself that the situation with Nikandros is still a touchy subject with Damen. He should probably deal with that before they start being publicly involved.

“Damianos,” Laurent says. “Just tell me.”

“Your brother told me not to court you.”

Laurent looks at him. “That’s not…ideal, but he doesn’t know you yet. We just have to-

“He has no interest in knowing me, he made that clear. He said-” Damen cuts himself off here, and turns away, clearly frustrated.

“Damen,” Laurent prompts.

“He said,” Damen tells him, “that while he is willing to have a treaty between us for the good of our people, I am the last person alive that he would wish upon you. He doesn’t trust me, and he asked how I could possibly have pure intentions when I’ve brought my murderous lover here.”

“Okay,” Laurent says, slowly. He has to think about the situation more. “We can work with this. It just might take some time.”

“Maybe we should just tell him the truth,” Damen suggests.

Laurent raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Or not,” Damen says. He makes his way into the bedroom and sits on the bed. “Come here,” he says, “and we can at least be comfortable while we talk.”

Laurent never needs much convincing to get into a bed with Damen. They lie down together, and Laurent pillows his head on Damen’s chest and starts to talk. “So it turns out,” Laurent says, “in this world Auguste and I were enemies.”

“I had heard something of the sort,” Damen says.

Laurent sighs. “Make sure you’re comfortable,” he says. This story is going to take awhile.

-

“Good morning, Lazar,” Laurent says, stretching as he steps out of his own rooms the next morning. “You’re looking particularly uncomfortable today.”

“You have changed in the past month,” Lazar says.

“I’ve been trying to, yes,” Laurent agrees. After telling Damen everything about his past self’s planned coup last night, Laurent still feels raw and touchy. He is not in the mood for a conversation. He starts walking, Lazar follows. “You know, when I asked you to come with me yesterday, I didn’t mean for you to continue as my shadow.”

“The King has asked me to guard you, given that you’ve told all your actual guards to fuck off.”

“You must be overjoyed.”

“I want to speak my mind,” Lazar says. “Will you send me to the dungeons again if I bring it up?”

“Bring what up?” Laurent says.

Lazar nods, like that’s an answer. “We’re still pretending, then.”

Laurent checks that the hallway is empty, stops, turns to Lazar. “No,” he says. “Say what you want to say. As long as it’s not treason, I won’t punish you.”

This shocks him. “I am concerned,” Lazar says immediately, as if worried Laurent will suddenly change his mind, “that just as you’re starting to not be so much of a cunt, you’re going to get yourself hurt.”

“How so?” Laurent asks.

“King Damianos is very well known for his proclivities.”

“Elaborate.”

“Fucking and fleeing.”

“Ah,” Laurent says, not displeased. “You’re worried he’s going to break my heart.” Trust Lazar to be the one to immediately pick up on the fact that Laurent and Damen are having sex. He has a sixth sense for sexual gossip, it seems. Or he just remembers Laurent with leaves in his hair and made an educated guess.

“Laurent,” Lazar says, unusually serious. “You said I could speak, so I’m just going to say it: I’m worried you’re replacing one powerful man with another. Men like that don’t love you, no matter how much they say otherwise. You know this. Damianos can’t whisk you away to his kingdom, just as your uncle never intended to live with you at Ravenel.”

Laurent realises he’s reached a hand out, steadying himself against a wall. He knows the colour has left his face. He isn’t ready to find out that this is common knowledge.

“I know you blame me,” Lazar is continuing, “for getting your brother when- when I was guarding your uncle’s door. But I stand by that decision. You may not think it, it may have changed the way you think, but,” he doesn’t seem to know what he’s saying now, “I thought you were finally starting to heal and this dalliance could knock back all that progress.”

Laurent can’t quite find it in him to look at Lazar. “Okay,” he says. He’s not sure what to say.

“Your brother swore me to secrecy, you know this,” Lazar says. “We are the only three in the world who know about what happened that night. But if you-”

“Four,” Laurent says.

Lazar looks at him.

“Four,” he repeats. “Damen knows. He isn’t- he still.” Laurent takes a breath. “You were right, we shouldn’t speak of this.”

“Yes,” Lazar agrees.

“But before we stop speaking of it,” this is when Laurent looks to him. He puts a hand firmly on Lazar’s shoulder. “Thank you,” Laurent says. Then he turns and walks back in the direction of his rooms. This time, Lazar doesn’t follow.

-  
The thought of being away from Damen, when he is so close, is unbearable, so Laurent continues to sneak into his rooms at night despite the lack of courting. Usually, Laurent can leave quietly before daybreak and be back in his own rooms before anyone can notice he left. One morning, this plan is foiled by a late night visitor.

Laurent is sleeping against Damen’s chest when they hear the light knock on the door. It opens slowly, and Damen sits up.

It’s Nikandros, lit by the moon coming in through the windows, and against his chest he holds a whimpering Ione. Nikandros glances fleetingly at Laurent before he focuses entirely upon Damen.

“What’s wrong?” Damen says, his hair a mess of curls.

Nik opens his mouth to explain, but the infant cuts in. “Baba,” she says, tearfully. Then, at the sight of Laurent, “…Mama?”

Laurent picks his head up, and she recoils in shock. “Baba! That’s not mama!”

“This is Laurent,” Damen says. “You met him earlier.”

“Briefly,” Nikandros replies, in defense of the infant clutching itself to his chest. “She had a bad dream and has been crying for you and Jokaste.”

Nikandros then drops Ione into Damen’s lap, and then while Damen is distracted, he finally looks at Laurent properly. Laurent can’t quite read his expression, but he certainly isn’t pleased. “I’m going back to bed,” he says after a long moment. “I’ll take her back before your first meeting.” And then he leaves.

Laurent looks at Damen, who is now cradling his daughter. Ione is gently babbling to him about how scary Vere is and that she wants to go home.

“We’ll go home soon, little one,” Damen says, patting her hair.

She has his curls, and his dimples set into her chubby cheeks. Laurent smiles softly. They make a pretty picture together: someone as indomitable as Damen genty holding an infant in his arms.

She huffs out a breath and looks at Laurent suspiciously.

“Hello,” Laurent says.

“Say hello to Laurent,” Damen prompts.

Ione does an admirable job of trying to pronounce his name.

“When I was your age,” Laurent says, “my family used to call me Lolo. You may too if you’d like.”

Ione smiles. “I like your hair,” she says. “It’s yellow.”

“Thank you,” Laurent replies. “I like your hair too.”

“Cassi has yellow hair,” Ione tells him.

Laurent glances at Damen.

“Cassiope,” he explains. “My other daughter.”

Laurent hasn’t gotten round to asking Damen about it yet, but he has noticed him using plurals when referring to his children. “Do you have any other siblings?” Laurent asks.

Ione looks confused.

“Tell Laurent about your brother and sister,” Damen says.

“Cassi is my sister,” she says. “She’s littler than me. And Leo is a baby. He’s not fun yet, but mama says he will be one day.”

“How lovely,” Laurent replies, and then to Damen: “Three kids?”

“Yes,” Damen replies. “Maybe more in Vask, but that was true of our last life as well.”

By the time Ione falls asleep against Damen’s chest, it’s not long before sunrise.

“I should go,” Laurent says, kissing Damen chastely. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Try to get some more sleep,” Damen replies.

“Fatherhood suits you,” Laurent says, before he leaves. It’s true. He won’t pretend he hasn’t before thought about Damen with children - children that inherit his goodnature and sweetness. But that hadn’t been a viable possibility for heirs when they were both kings together. Laurent is glad that, out of everything, Damen has at least been given this one gift in their new lives.

-

Damen and Auguste actually manage to get along quite well in the following days. They are both naturally charismatic and loving men and so it doesn’t surprise Laurent that the forced proximity in meetings causes them to bond a little.

Damen ducks into Laurent’s rooms after they break for lunch one day. “I think the situation is improving,” Damen tells him, ever the optimist. “He’s still insistent that I cannot court you, but he also admitted that I’m not as barbaric as he originally thought.”

“Only you can take distrustful Veretians and turn them into friends,” Laurent replies.

“Friends?” Damen says, smiling. “Is that what we are?”

Laurent has to pull Damen towards him at that, and kiss him soundly on the mouth.

“Prince Laurent!” Damen says, in a scandalised tone. “In broad daylight!”

Laurent laughs; they are in his sitting room and his newly appointed guard Lazar is off admiring the foreigner’s chitons, so there is no danger of them being caught here. “I can stop if you want me to.”

Damen kisses him again. “No,” he says. “You’ve seduced me.”

He unlaces Laurent’s jacket, with an expert’s proficiency and tugs it off his shoulders.

“Do we have time?” Laurent asks.

“I’m willing to skip lunch,” Damen says. “You are a much more satisfying meal.”

Laurent unpins Damen’s chiton at the top, so that it falls to his waist and reveals his bare, muscular chest. “At least you are in no risk of wasting away from one skipped meal.”

Damen fists a hand in Laurent’s hair - he hasn’t said as much yet, but Laurent knows he likes it long, likes to grip it - and lays down a series of long, heated kisses down Laurent’s neck. Laurent lets his head fall back. The collar of his gauzy white undershirt has been unlaced enough to fall down his shoulders and reveal more skin for Damen to lay claim to.

Laurent makes a small noise of pleasure. They had been voracious lovers before coming to this world, but something about the time spent apart and the uncertainty in their current relationship has lended them to a new level of insatiable desire. Every opportunity they get to kiss and touch and make love behind closed doors they take. Laurent has no complaints about that.

They must look unspeakably erotic like this: Damen, with his bared muscles, taking a flushed and partly unclothed lover into his muscular arms. He softly puts his hands on Damen’s waist. Sometimes Laurent is taken by the urge to clutch Damen tightly to him and drag his nails down his skin in pleasure. He controls the urge, especially now that Damen’s back is a blank canvas again - he will not contribute to marring it again.

Then is the sound of the door opening and Laurent remembers too late that his brother never knocks.

“Auguste,” Laurent says, pushing Damen away.

Lazar is standing in the doorway next to Auguste, looking sheepish. He must have told Auguste about Damen and Laurent fucking. Auguste is silent for long enough for Laurent to realise that this is not the first time in this world that Auguste has walked in on his younger brother in a sexual situation.

Auguste, face filled with a kind off all-consuming rage that Laurent has never seen before, pulls the sword from Lazar’s belt and comes forward at Damen.

Lazar moves to stop Auguste, and gets the solid impact of an elbow to the nose for his efforts.

“Arm yourself, Damianos,” Auguste demands.

“Auguste, stop,” Laurent says, horrified.

“Turn around, Laurent,” Auguste replies. “I won’t make you watch this.”

“I’m not going to fight you,” Damen says. “Calm down.”

“Calm down?!” Auguste repeats, because no one in existence has ever gotten calmer at those words. “You come into my country and defile my brother against my wishes, and you expect me to calm down! Get your sword now or I will fight you unarmed.”

Laurent hates the way Auguste uses the word defile: as if he is something to be tainted or made dirty. It took him years to stop feeling that way about himself, and to hear his own brother say it is deeply upsetting.

“I won’t fight you,” Damen repeats.

“Fine,” Auguste says, and he draws back his sword and lunges forward.

Damen jumps back and Laurent is unwilling to watch a replay of Marlas. He steps in front of Damen, and the strength that Auguste has to put into stopping his blade mid-swing is reminiscent of Laurent getting between Damianos and Makedon all those years ago. It seems his life is just a replay of awful moments.

“Step out of the way, Laurent,” Auguste orders.

“No,” Laurent replies. “Damen go into the bedroom, now. I need to talk to my brother.”

Damen, who has probably never retreated from a fight before in his life, does as Laurent says, ducking into the bedroom and closing the door. He’s probably going to listen at the door. Laurent rounds on his brother, furious.

“I am an adult,” Laurent hisses. “You have no right to tell me who I can and can’t bed.”

“I am your King. I have every right.”

The implication of ownership makes Laurent’s blood boil. He does not enjoy feeling helpless, or without the power to make his own decisions.

“Fine,” Laurent says, and he gets right up in Auguste’s space and his mind is filled with the angry buzzing that lets him know he’s about to say things he will regret. Usually Damen stops him when he gets to this point, but Damen is in the next room. “I am your subject, then. My body is yours to decide what I do with. I’ll let men fuck me only when you say I can, and you can be just like uncle.”

Auguste slaps him across his face and Laurent’s head snaps sideways with the force. “How dare you–” Auguste shouts.

“Fuck you!” Laurent cuts over him. He’s so angry he can’t think. “You were meant to be there for me! We sat in your tent at Marlas and you promised me you’d come back, you promised you’d always protect me. And then you left me with him! And I kept telling myself that you’d help me, that you’d love me no matter what, that you’d forgive me – Perhaps I am the one who has to forgive you.”

Auguste is breathing heavily, and he faces Laurent with barely concealed anger. “Do what you want, Laurent,” Auguste says. “Fuck who you want. But if you want me to trust you - you will not spread your legs for our enemy. You can decide what you want more - my trust, or to fuck some barbarian you’ve barely met.”

Auguste turns and storms out, sword clattering to the ground. Lazar, nose red with blood, follows him.

Laurent stands alone in the room for a very long moment, before Damen comes out of the bedchambers again.

“Laurent,” Damen says, sounding mournful. “I don’t want to come between you and your brother.”

Laurent clenches his jaw. “Fuck you too, Damianos,” he says, in the iciest voice he can manage. The ice is cracking. “I will not choose between you. Neither of you will make me.”

-  
Laurent storms out of his rooms, leaving Damen alone, and towards the practice courts. He needs to calm down - and he’d love to knock someone around to do it. When Laurent gets there, he looks up and sees Nikandros, and thinks, Perfect, someone else I have hurt.

Nikandros looks over at his entrance, and does not look pleased. “Your highness,” he says, dipping his head but not too much. Some things really don’t change.

“Nikandros,” Laurent says. “Would you like to hit me?”

Confusion clouds his face. “Excuse me?”

Laurent gestures to the courts. He’d been planning on getting a sword, but sometimes being up close and physical with violence is better. “Wrestle with me.” He starts unlacing his undershirt. He’d forgotten to put his jacket back on.

Nikandros is still hesitating. This is their first proper interaction in this world, it’s no wonder he’s confused.

“Come on,” Laurent says. “Don’t pretend you haven’t thought of fighting me.”

“Keep your pants on,” Nikandros replies, bending down to take off his sandals.

-

Nik rolls off of Laurent and they both lie there, in the dirt, breathing heavily.

“You’re not awful,” Nikandros says, finally. Which is actually kind of gracious of him, considering he has just beat Laurent three times straight.

“You were the one teaching me,” Laurent replies.

“Ah,” Nikandros says. He turns his head to look at Laurent. “It truly is you then? From the other world.”

“Yes.”

Nikandros laughs. “Look at you,” he says. “You’re not even threatened by me. Damen tends to rose tint his relationships, so I had had some hope that you weren’t as wonderful and in love as he said.”

Laurent sighs. He supposes they should have had this conversation a lot earlier. In his old life, Laurent had been something like friends with Nikandros, and he finds that he does not want to ruin that potential in this life. “I’m not sorry,” he says. “But I do regret that you’ve been hurt, in this world.”

“Well,” Nikandros says, sitting up. “It helps to know that I’m much better at wrestling than you.”

Laurent shakes his head. “You taught me,” he tells him again. “My lack of prowess is only a comment on your teaching skills.”

“If that helps you sleep at night.”

Laurent sits up too, so that they are side by side, and it feels almost like comradery. “I do feel threatened by you, for what it’s worth,” Laurent admits. “I know Damen loves me, I have faith in that never changing. But you’re a good person. There are things that I’ve done that I don’t think you would ever do.”

“Like murder his brother?” Nik asks, with a raised eyebrow.

“Ah,” Laurent says. “No. We have that one in common, actually.”

“Really?”

“Damen didn’t tell you.”

Nikandros shrugs and looks away. “He hasn’t told me much about your old world. Except that you were both kings and your brother died at Marlas.”

“Yes,” Laurent agrees. He frowns at the reminder of Auguste. “And now it turns out I’m not a very good brother.” He doesn’t know why he admits this to Nik, except that he’s always been a trustworthy person, and also Laurent doesn’t really have anyone else to talk to right now. Damen is the only other person who knows everything, and sibling talk has long been an uncomfortable subject between them.

Nikandros gives Laurent an appraising look. “Asking me to fight you earlier was because you fought with your brother then?”

Laurent shrugs. “I don’t remember us ever fighting before Marlas.”

Nik scoffs. “I can guarantee that you fought.”

“No,” Laurent says.

“Siblings fight,” Nikandros insists. “I have a younger sister, who I love dearly, but when we were six I tried to give her away to the town witch.”

“Why?”

“She was high-pitched and bossy and she used to pull my hair.”

Laurent laughs. He can’t imagine it, because it’s impossible to imagine Nikandros as anything but a stoic adult. “I think our disagreement is worse than that.”

“Go talk to him, now that you’re calm,” Nikandros says.

Laurent nods, and stands up, collecting his undershirt. “Nikandros,” Laurent says, pulling his shirt on.

“Yes?”

“You’re not awful, either.”

-

Laurent walks to Auguste’s rooms without going back for his jacket. He thinks if he makes a detour he’s going to get caught up in overplanning or he’ll run into Damen and it’s best if he just gets this out of the way.

Jord is guarding the door, and he looks about as happy to see Laurent as usual, so not at all happy.

“Let me in,” Laurent says.

Jord frowns, and gives Laurent a suspicious once over. “Why?” he says.

“Really?” Laurent replies. “Look at me: it’s not like I have any weapons on me. The worst I can do at this point is yell.”

Jord knocks on the door and announces Laurent’s request to enter. There is a very long pause in which Laurent is concerned that he’s about to be sent away, and then Auguste calls for him to enter.

Auguste looks… well, he looks like he’s recently had a devastating fight with his only living relative. He’s sitting on his lounge, with a goblet of wine, and he looks at Laurent for only a moment before he’s clenching his jaw and looking away.

“Brother,” Laurent says, stepping into the room.

Auguste says, “I have to admit, I was really starting to believe you this time. You must be so proud.”

“Stop,” Laurent says. “Let’s talk about this. Calmly. Please.”

Auguste waves a hand, a sign for Laurent to go ahead.

“Firstly,” Laurent says. “I wanted to apologise for what I said to you. I know I tend to lash out verbally, when I’m upset and I’m trying to work on that, but it’s no excuse for… I shouldn’t have said that you were like uncle. You’re nothing like him. I know that, and I only said it because I knew it was what would hurt you the most.”

“On the contrary, what hurt me the most was finding out you blame me for everything after all.”

“I don’t,” Laurent says. He takes another step forward and then takes a seat next to Auguste. “I shouldn’t have said that either. What happened after Marlas was neither of our faults.”

“Fine,” Auguste says. He still won’t look at Laurent and so Laurent reaches out and takes his brother’s hand.

“Please look at me,” Laurent says. “I know that it must have been unsettling to walk in on me and Damianos, and I obviously know how it can be to get irrationally upset-”

Auguste pulls his hand away. “I’m not being irrational.”

“Auguste,” Laurent says. “We were just kissing. Consensually. And you tried to murder him.”

“No,” Auguste replies. “You were being intimate with our enemy, with the full knowledge that I did not approve.”

“I love you,” Laurent says. “And I respect you as my king. But I am an adult and it’s not entirely your choice who I want to let into my bed.”

“You’ve never shown an interest in anyone else before,” Auguste says.

“Damianos is not quite like anyone else.”

“That’s true. Damianos’s lover murdered his brother,” Auguste says. “I’m sure the idea appeals to you: finding your own lover to do your dirty work.”

“That,” Laurent begins, and then he closes his mouth. “You think I am seducing him so he’ll kill you for me.”

“You didn’t think of that? I’m not an idiot, I know you allying yourself with an enemy king is not a good sign.”

“No, I thought of it,” Laurent says. “I just didn’t think you would.” And it hurts to know that Auguste, who was always good-hearted and blind to the worst things in life, has had to adapt to be wary of betrayal. Laurent did this - he has hurt his brother so much that he now looks for hidden motives in things. He thinks Laurent is capable of murdering him.

“Prove me wrong,” Auguste replies. “End your dalliance with him.”

“I love him,” Laurent says.

“You barely know him,” Auguste says. “You’re truly going to put a few days of sneaking around with a foreigner, ahead of a lifetime as my brother?”

“No!” Laurent says. “It’s not like that.” Except that it is. Laurent has gone about this entire situation wrong, in his eagerness to see Damen and fix everything as fast as possible. They shouldn’t have been romantically involved at all for this trip. Laurent should have suggested going back to Ios with the Akielons to fine-tune the alliance, or get a better understanding of the country, and then they could have had a long, drawn out courtship over there. Laurent succumbing to months of positive attention and affection is more believable than a fortnight of making love.

He wants to tell Auguste the truth, but he can’t. Vere doesn’t believe in magic and myths about caves. And Auguste already doesn’t trust Laurent - he has no reason to believe that Laurent was telling the truth and not just enacting another elaborate ploy. And he has no proof to make Auguste believe him, just a series of memories in his head that never happened here.

“I’m going to talk to Damianos,” Laurent says, slowly. “And then I’ll come back and we can talk this through properly.” He has to figure something out. He has to think. 

“Wonderful,” Auguste says, taking a long sip of wine. “Tell him to bring his sword this time.”

-

“I have a plan,” Laurent says, walking into Damen’s rooms.

“Hello lover,” Damen replies, stepping in from the balcony. “It’s nice to see you again too.”

Laurent sighs and moves into Damen’s space so that he can kiss him hello. “I’m sorry,” Laurent says, quietly against his mouth. “I know I was awful earlier.”

“You were emotional,” Damen says. “It’s okay.”

“You’re not going to like the plan.”

Damen takes a step back. He looks wary. He generally looks wary whenever Laurent announces a new plan. “Alright,” Damen says.

“We need to end our relationship,” Laurent says. “Temporarily. And I’m going to work on Auguste. It will take a while, you should probably go back to Ios for some time, but all I really need to do is convince him that I have no interest in betraying him.” He’ll give away his lands and work more on making sure that the people love their King more than they love their wayward Prince. He can figure that out. And then once Auguste understands that Laurent has changed, he will slowly reintroduce the idea of Laurent wanting a lover.

“How long will it take?” Damen asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe a couple of years. I know it’s not ideal, and it’s a risk, but it’s the easiest way to resolve this without my brother declaring war on you.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I know,” Laurent says. “And I know it’s selfish of me to ask you to wait for me. And if you want to take a lover while I’m away, I won’t stop you-”

“Will you stop trying to convince me to take a lover?” Damen says, frustrated.

He doesn’t want Damen to be with anyone else. He loves him like nothing else. Damen is the other half of Laurent’s soul and Laurent knows that he wouldn’t survive without Damen - not anymore, not with how connected they are. But he also knows that Damen is strong, and wonderful and brave - and that Damen does have his flaws, but he also has an inherent capacity for good that Laurent doesn’t.

Or maybe, all of this, the magic cave and the new world they’ve been thrust into, has just been here to teach Laurent a lesson. He is young and he is selfish and he is clinging desperately to his brother and Damen so tightly that he will drown them in the end. Perhaps the whole point of this is to show Laurent that he-

“I don’t deserve you,” Laurent says, realises, admits. “And you have done nothing bad enough to deserve someone like me.”

“Laurent,” Damen says, frowning, “where is this coming from?”

“In every life I am duplicitous,” Laurent says.“I have been plotting to kill my own brother for years.” And it is like every insecurity that Laurent has ever felt is suddenly in the forefront of his mind, and he can’t stop them from spilling out. Damen is a good person. Auguste is a good person. Laurent is just the common factor between them - he is not good, he tries to be, but sometimes he thinks he never had that capacity.

“That’s not you.” Damen looks thrown and concerned and hurt, because of course he does - Laurent is hurting him once again.

“It is!” Laurent says. “It is a version of me. And I am no better in the life you knew me. I had you lashed to the brink of death. I had you drugged and tried to have you raped-”

“That is in the past,” Damen cuts in, quickly, because he does not like thinking about these things. “And it was an attempt, it didn’t happen-”

“That doesn’t mean the intention wasn’t there!” Laurent replies. “And then Ancel actually did-”

“Why are we speaking of this?!”

“Because I’m trying to make you see sense! I am not worthy of you. I have done unforgivable things in this life and in the one before.”

“Stop,” Damen orders, but Laurent is past the point of listening.

“You could go and be with Nikandros, and learn to love him back. You will be happy like the other version of you was. And he will support you and kill for you and he won’t make you wait around for him.”

“Stop this!” Damen says. “I don’t care if you think you aren’t worthy of me. I don’t even care if it’s true - which it’s not. I want you. I love you. And you don’t get to presume to tell me where my line is. I have forgiven you. I have survived the worst parts of you and I have learnt to love you. It is my choice, not yours.”

“It’s the wrong choice!”

“Not to me.”

Laurent breathes out, he feels his shoulders slump in defeat. “I don’t have a plan,” he admits, quietly. “I don’t know if it’s possible for us to – to overcome this. I cannot choose between you, I cannot force Auguste to trust us. I am stuck. Perhaps I am meant to give up you both.”

Damen shakes his head. “That’s it,” he says. “We’re doing this my way.”

“What?” Laurent says.

“Follow me,” Damen says, and then he’s pushing his way out of the door.

-

Laurent follows his lover down the halls, and he knows this is the path to Auguste’s room and that Damen is going to be reckless, because Damen is always reckless when he thinks his relationship with Laurent is in danger, and he’s just going to make everything worse.

“Damen, stop,” Laurent hisses. Damen is walking in a hurry and Laurent’s legs aren’t as long. He grabs for Damen’s arm but Damen pulls away.

“No,” Damen says. “You’re being ridiculous. I’ve let you handle this situation for too long and now it’s time to take my approach.”

“He thinks I want you to kill him; he’s not going to take nicely to you storming into his rooms!”

They turn the corner and come upon Auguste’s front door. Jord is standing straight backed and tense. His hand is on his sword. “King Auguste is indisposed at the moment.”

Laurent turns to Damen, sees his opportunity. “See? He’s busy. Let’s go.”

“No,” Damen says again. It’s possibly the most Damen has ever said no to Laurent in recent years. “Jord, we’re going in. I’m not armed, you can see for yourself.”

Jord is shocked, probably at Damen calling him by name because Damen shouldn’t know that because he’s a terrible actor and about to make everything worse.

“Will you just calm down first, Damen? We can discuss everything properly and then you can have your chat with Auguste.”

Damen turns on Laurent. He looks determined enough that Laurent can tell from that alone that he’s not going to be talked down or let this go.

“Laurent,” Damen says, “I love you, but you’ve made this entire situation overly complicated. Not everything is a plot or a plan to be made. I’m telling your brother everything.”

“He’ll think I’m insane!”

“You’re letting him go about thinking you want him dead. He deserves the truth!”

The door opens, and Auguste appears in the hallway. “You’re both being very loud,” he says.

“I need to speak to you,” Damen insists.

“So I’ve heard,” Auguste replies, dryly. “Fine, come in, both of you. Stop quarrelling in my hallway.”

Damen takes the invitation immediately and so Laurent has to follow, and Auguste shuts the door behind him and then turns to them expectantly. “Get to it, then.”

Damen nods, and then, he gives Auguste an earnest look and says: “Laurent and I are from a different reality. We went into a magic cave and it sent us to this world, about two months ago.”

Laurent puts his head in his hands. “What the fuck, Damen?”

“I agree with Laurent, on that one,” Auguste says, mildly.

“Surely you’ve noticed the difference in Laurent,” Damen insists. “In the other world, he and I are married, and you died at Marlas. We went into the cave, and it asked us for our heart’s desire, and all Laurent has ever wanted is to have a life where you survived. It sent us here.”

“Laurent,” Auguste says. “The King of Akielos is having a breakdown.”

“He’s really not,” Laurent says, finally lifting his head up to look at his brother. “What he said was true. But a completely reckless and stupid way to tell you.”

“Oh, in that case: I believe you.”

“What?” Laurent says.

“Not really. This is your worst plot yet.”

“We can prove it,” Damen says. “Separate us. Ask us anything. There’s no way that we could have conspired a fake ten years since Marlas. You can corroborate everything we tell you.”

“It’s been seven years since Marlas,” Auguste says.

“No,” Laurent says, “I was barely fourteen when Marlas happened.”

“Yes,” Auguste replies. “And now you’re almost twenty-one.”

“Oh, right,” Damen says to Laurent. “The cave moved us back in time as well, for some reason. I thought you knew.”

It shouldn’t impress Laurent that Damen’s figured this out before him, except it kind of does. Not that Laurent hasn’t had bigger worries lately than what year it is. It’s just always nice to be reminded that his lover isn’t just a ridiculously handsome face. “I’m twenty,” Laurent says, and then he shakes his head. “Of course! I’m not old enough to inherit. That’s why I haven’t killed Auguste yet.”

“Thank you for that,” Auguste says.

Damen looks between them. “Great,” Damen says. “Now that we’ve figured that out-”

“We’ve figured nothing out, this is madness.” Auguste walks over to the table and pours himself another cup of wine.

“I have books,” Damen says. “About the cave myth. I brought them along just in case. I can show you.”

“A book on fairy tales. What a wonderful idea,” Auguste replies, taking a sip.

Damen looks at Laurent. “You’re just like him,” he says. “Is the dry wit a family trait?”

Laurent has unfortunately been exposed to Damen’s humour and personality for the last four years. It’s softened him a little. He laughs. He can’t help it. “And the sass is your family trait,” he replies, automatically.

“Okay, Laurent, go away,” Auguste says, waving a hand. “I don’t want to look at you two flirting. I’m going to question Damianos, and we’ll prove that this is ridiculous and then I’m sending you on a boat somewhere far away because I can’t take this anymore.”

“Have Jord guard me,” Laurent says. “So that you can be certain I didn’t cheat when Damen and I tell you the exact same information.”

“Fine,” Auguste says.

-

Jord takes Laurent back to his chambers, and then Laurent gets to sit around in awkward, judgemental silence for a while.

“So,” Laurent says. “Should we have a heart to heart as well?”

Jord frowns at him but remains silent.

“Great,” Laurent says, and then he finds himself a book and sits down to read.

The longer they sit in the room, the harder Laurent finds it to focus. He’s trying not to dwell on what Damen could be saying to Auguste, and what kind of questions his brother could be asking, but it’s hard when there are so many things that he doesn’t entirely want Auguste to know about. Maybe this is a part of why Laurent had been so adamant on not telling his brother the truth. He doesn’t know which Auguste would take worse - the awful things that Laurent did in Arles, or the fact that he fell in love with his brother’s killer. Perhaps Auguste will still consider him a traitor after all of this.

Eventually Lazar appears at the door, sporting two black eyes and a crooked nose courtesy of Auguste elbowing him earlier. “Your turn,” he says.

“Finally,” Laurent replies, standing up. “I was beginning to think they’d decided to forget me and elope.”

Jord frowns. Which isn’t really comment worthy at this point.

“I can’t pretend that wouldn’t be hilarious,” Lazar replies. “I’ll escort you back.”

Jord follows them as well, but at a distance. Laurent wonders if he should find Jord someone to have sex with, maybe that would cheer him up a little.

“How’s your nose?”

“Deserved, I’m sure,” Lazar replies, and then, almost regretfully, “You know I had to tell your brother what was going on.”

Laurent sighs. “It’s better that you did. Not for me personally, but I’m glad he has a soldier he can trust. Two, if we count how much Jord glares at me.”

“I’m only disappointed that my face has become a casualty. I was looking forward to seducing some barbarians.”

“Well, I overheard one of them complimenting your thighs, so perhaps you have a chance even with the horrific facial wounds.”

Lazar ignores the barb. “Which one?”

“I think his name was Pallas?” Laurent lies.

“Hmm,” Lazar says, and then, “I don’t suppose you could teach me how to say ‘want to fuck?’ in Akielon?”

Laurent pretends to consider it, then carefully teaches Lazar how to say ‘I’m impotent’ in Akielon.

“Great!” Lazar says and then turns to Jord, “Jord, you’ve got this, bye.” and leaves.

Laurent and Jord finish the walk to Auguste’s rooms together. Right before Laurent opens the door, Jord says: “I know a little Akielon.”

Laurent shrugs, “It’s so hard learning different languages. Sometimes I get words confused.”

The corner of Jord’s mouth tilts up. It’s not quite a smile, but Laurent still counts it as a win. He needs some sort of victory before going in to face his brother. Laurent adjusts his stance, straightens his shoulders, and opens the door.

He doesn’t know what to expect, but there Auguste is, on his lounge with a cup of wine as he looks out at the balcony.

“Finished the first part of your interrogation, then?” Laurent approaches him.

“Finished with all of it,” Auguste replies. He turns and looks at Laurent for a long moment. “I believe you.”

Laurent takes another hesitant step towards his brother. “Really?”

“Yes,” Auguste says. He sighs. “Your lover is very earnest, and also very transparent when he’s not being entirely truthful. You’d never trust him to pull off a plot like this.”

“I despair of him, sometimes,” Laurent says. He tries to say it with humour or affection, but the words tremble against his will. Laurent takes another step forward, so that he is right in front of Auguste. Auguste looks up at him, and Laurent finds the words to ask, “Do you hate me?”

“What for?” Auguste replies.

“For loving him,” Laurent says, softly. “He killed you.”

Auguste holds out his arms, and Laurent lets himself fall into them. He buries his head against Auguste’s shoulder and puts his arms around him as tightly as possible. “When you were a toddler,” Auguste says, voice intimate, “you would pretend you didn’t know how to walk when I was around, so that I’d be forced to carry you.”

Laurent laughs quietly, the sound muffled.

Auguste continues, “I love you, Laurent, more that my own life. I was ready to go to my grave for that love, because there is no world in which you are anything but my most important person.”

Laurent tucks his face tighter into Auguste’s shoulder. “I missed you,” he manages to say. “I missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Auguste replies. “I can’t imagine how hard it must have been.”

“I was alone,” Laurent says. And then he remembers his other important question and pulls back, pretends his eyes aren’t wet. “Do you hate Damianos?”

Auguste wipes the tears away from Laurent’s eyes gently. “I’m not pleased to know he killed me in another reality. But I can forgive that if he’s managed to love you properly.”

“He does,” Laurent insists. “He has done more for me than I could have ever expected, or asked for.”

“I told him to make himself scarce, this evening,” Auguste says. “So that you and I can catch each other up on our lives, and spend some real time together.”

Laurent nods. “I’d like that,” he says. “Though I do need to apologise to Damen at some point.”

“Okay,” Auguste says, and then he’s pulling Laurent back into his arms. “Just stay with me, for now.”


	5. Epilogue

They spend the rest of the evening talking, choosing to have dinner privately in Auguste’s rooms. Laurent sends a note with a disgruntled Jord to give Damen, to let him know that Laurent will come to him later in the evening, and also that he loves him. Laurent knows he’ll have to apologise, and they’ll have to talk things through more later, but for now that should ease Damen’s mind a little.

When Laurent finally sees Damen again, he says, “I’m sorry.”

And Damen takes him in his arms. “Don’t apologise,” his love replies, “I always want to know how you feel and think, even if it is something you think I will not want to hear. As long as we are honest with each other, we can get through anything.”

Maybe Laurent isn’t fully convinced that he deserves Damen yet, but he can appreciate having him.

-

Eventually things settle enough in the Veretian court, and with the treaty with Akielos as beneficial for both parties as possible, it is time for the Akielons to leave. And with them, Laurent.

Auguste cups his face in his hands and kisses both his cheeks, frowning. “I don’t want you to go.”

“You’ll see me in three months, for the wedding,” Laurent says. “And then I will see you after that, for your wedding. Don’t make that face, it’s past time for you to give Vere some heirs.”

“Alright, your highness,” Auguste says, and then he ruffles Laurent’s hair and Laurent has to pretend like he hadn’t forgotten how annoying having an older brother could be.

“I’ll be back after that,” Laurent says. “For winter, I think. Ios doesn’t get proper winters. Everyone just covers their arms slightly more than usual.”

Auguste laughs and then he kisses Laurent’s face again and says, “Go, before I change my mind.”

Laurent steps back, and grins. “Write to me,” he says. “As often as possible. I can’t have you running this kingdom into the ground in my absence.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking earlier,” Auguste replies. “Leave now and free me from this meddling.”

They both laugh and then Laurent is mounting his horse and Auguste is saying his official goodbyes to Damen and the rest of the Akielons and then they are off.

Most of the Akielons left Vere by the boat they came on, a day earlier, but Laurent has insisted to Damianos that they travel the long way through Vere. He has a few stops to make. The first is Varenne, so that he can check up on Ancel, who is in the process of setting up and leading a spy network for Auguste. The last stop before they reach Akielos will be Ravenel, which Laurent inherited off of his uncle and has given the control of to Aimeric.

Aimeric, Laurent will have to keep an eye on to make sure he doesn’t get any traitorous ideas of his own, but for now Laurent has enough optimism (courtesy of Damianos) to hope that some power and some time away from his poisonous father will do the boy some good. Maybe he’ll request Auguste send Jord there, to check on things at some point.

On the way, Laurent also plans to check on every Lord and council member that he can, just to instill a healthy dose of fear, and a loyalty to Auguste.

“The sky is getting dark fast,” Damen says, when they are somewhere between Lys and Chasteigne.

Laurent looks up. “It should hold until we get to the next-” he manages to say before a sheet of rain comes down upon them.

Laurent takes a moment to be glad that Ione was sent ahead on the ship - he could hardly start his time in Ios by letting the Princess get a cold. Damen gestures for the contingent to find some form of cover so that they can wait the storm out. Heavy rain typically doesn’t last long in this area.

Damen and Laurent take their horses a bit more away from the path and into the forest, where they can take refuge from the rain and then–

The rain stops.

“Oh,” Damen says.

Laurent looks ahead of them. They’ve pulled their horses into a small, open field, in the middle of which sits a cave. Laurent looks around - the entire meadow is dry, but surrounded by pouring rain, as if something is keeping it always in blue skies.

Damen and Laurent both know what this is.

“We could turn back,” Damen says, and Laurent knows that it is true. All it would take would be to step back out into the rain, and he daresay that the cave will disappear as if it were never there.

“Yes,” Laurent says. He imagines staying in this world - getting to know the rest of Damen’s children, and ruling Akielos by his side. He imagines seeing Auguste whenever he wants, and finding a place where he can belong and people he can love.

“Or,” Damen replies, “we could go in and wish ourselves back into our old world.” That too is an idea. They could go back and pretend that all of this never happened. They’ll settle back into their lives and the trials that come with being two young kings in love.

“Or,” Laurent replies. “We could try our luck and wish for a new one.”

Endless possibilities stretch out before them. They look at the cave, and then each other.

“So,” Damen says. “What do you think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest thing I have ever written!! Thanks @ everyone on the capri discord and on tumblr, bc lbr I would have given up if it weren't for all of that encouragement. I am [@Nikanndros](https://nikanndros.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Your Majesty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13927077) by [Josselin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin)
  * [Watching](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945990) by [Josselin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin)




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